Amnesia
by NCCJFAN
Summary: An automoble accident erases Jordan's memory...will she get it back, will things be the same between she and Woody? Will she continue to be a medical examiner? And will her father's return trigger her memory or send her over the edge? FINISHED!
1. Waiting it out

DISCLAIMER: Under penalty of law, this tag may not be removed…Just kidding….Yada, yada….I don't anything….blah, blah, you know the drill.

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She never saw it coming. All she heard were the screeching tires and a loud bang. And then there was quiet…..and blessed darkness.

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"She's not conscious, but she is breathing on her own," the doctor said, coming out of a small curtained unit of Massachusetts University Hospital. "She's taken a pretty serious bang on the head. We won't know for a while exactly how or if this has impacted her."

The doctor walked with him out to the waiting area. "I suggest you go home. We'll call you when she regains consciousness. Are you sure she has no family in the area?"

"None."

"Then we'll contact you if anything changes."

Garrett nodded, as he settled down in the waiting area. There was no way he was going home. Not until she had regained consciousness. Not until he knew….knew if she was going to be okay …. knew if she was going to be able to function on her usual level….knew that she was going to live. Grimly he reached for his cell phone and stepped outside to call Nigel. Nigel would want to know. So would Woody, but he was on vacation right now and couldn't be reached.

"Hello, Nigel?"

"Dr. Macy?"

"Yeah, Nige, it's me. Look, there's been an accident …"

"Where do you need me to go?"

"It's not that kind of accident. It's … it's Jordan, Nige. She's been in a car crash… a bad one."

Nigel couldn't remember exactly how he got to the hospital. He just remembered he felt as if his heart quit beating and he held his breath until the elevator dumped him out in the critical care unit.

"How's she doing, Garrett?"

"Well, she's holding her own right now. She's not conscious, but she's breathing on her own."

"Can we see her?"

"They may let us in a little bit. Right now all we can do is wait."

"Has anyone called Woody?"

"I tried and couldn't get an answer on his cell phone or his apartment. So I called his supervisor. He told me Woody was on vacation and that he's gone hunting up in Kewuanee. He won't be back until the end of the week."

"Who's with the Cavanaugh family?" a voice said from the doorway.

Garrett went over to the nurse. "I am," he said.

"Good. She's beginning to wake up a little bit. You two can go back to see her, but you can't stay long. She's going to need to rest."

The nurse led them down a maze of tiny rooms with glass windows and curtains for doors. Finally stopping at one, she pulled the curtain back and motioned for them to go in. "There's more wires and machines than there is of her. But take my word, she's doing much better now than when they brought her in."

True to the nurse's the nurses description, Jordan was covered with wires and tubes running in and out of her. Her breathing, urine output, pulse, heart rate, and blood pressure were being carefully monitored. Her head was swathed in bandages and her face was swollen. Gingerly, Garret took her hand, "Jordan," he softly said.

No response.

"Jordan," he said, this time a little louder.

Jordan 's eyelids fluttered. "Hey, Jordan, it's me Garrett. Can you wake up and talk to me?"

Jordan tried to shake her head 'no,' but the action caused her already throbbing head to ache even more. Garrett caught the grimace of pain that shot across her face.

"That's okay, Jor. You rest. Nigel's here."

Garrett stepped aside so Nigel could take her hand. "See if you can get something out of her," said Garrett.

"Hello, love. I know your head must be killing you."

'Boy, that's the understatement of the year,' thought Jordan.

"You just stay all quiet like and do what the good doctors tell you to, okay? We'll be back tomorrow. Can you hear me, love? If you do, could you give my hand a little squeeze?" Nigel felt Jordan's fingers faintly tighten around his.

"She did it, Garrett. She squeezed my hand."

Garrett sighed a deep sigh of relief. "Good. Let's go home and get some rest and be back in the morning. We'll need to let Bug, Lily, and Peter know."

Nigel nodded. "I'll call them tonight."

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The next three days were touch and go as far as Jordan's state of consciousness was concerned. She drifted somewhere in between two worlds – one of daylight and the other of blessed darkness where she didn't have to try to think, try to cope, or try to remember. The remembering was what was the hardest. She couldn't remember what happened. So she tried to stay in the darkened state of peace as much as she could. The only problem was that no one wanted to let her remain there. She kept hearing voices trying to pull her back into the world of the living.

"We've got to get her awake so I can accurately assess any damage," the doctor said. "The sooner we get her back with us, the sooner I can do that and the better she will be. I know the scans and MRIs have all come back amazingly good, considering how hard she struck her head, but I need her awake."

So the voices kept pestering her to wake up. They kept trying to pull her out of her blessed, peaceful darkness. Did they not understand how much her head hurt or how the daylight stung her eyes?

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"Nigel, have you found out when Woody's plane is landing?" asked Garrett.

"Two o'clock this afternoon, give or take an hour or two depending on the rain on the east coast."

"Good." Garrett had the unenviable task of breaking the news to Woody. He knew the detective cared deeply for Jordan and Jordan cared for him, but no words of commitment had been spoken between the two. Woody called Jordan his best friend, Jordan called Woody anytime she needed anything. And anything for Jordan could have broad definitions – from re-enacting a crime scene to simply needing someone to hold her during a thunderstorm.

So, at two o'clock, Garret found himself at Logan waiting on Woody. Finally catching sight of the young man, Garrett called out to him.

"Woody!"

"Dr. M. What are you doing here?"

"I came to get you Woody. We need to talk."

"What about?" asked Wood. Then looking into Garrett's eyes, he answered his own question. "It's Jordan, isn't it? What has she gotten herself into now?"

"Jordan's in the hospital, Woody. She was in a car accident Sunday night. She's banged her head up pretty good. She's been unconscious most of the time since then. The doctor's concerned that if we don't get her woke up and keep her awake, that she's going to have some serious problems."

Pure panic spread across Woody's face. "Where is she?" he asked, quickly making his way to the baggage claim.

"She's at Massachusetts University Hospital."

"Let's go."

On the way to the hospital, Garrett explained the accident to Woody. "Jordan was leaving work late Sunday night. She was at the intersection of Pine and Elmhurst. The light turned green for her to go, so she proceeded through the intersection. A car ran a red light and hit her in the driver's side. The driver was drunk."

"Airbag….did the air bag?"

"Yeah, the airbag deployed, but she was thrown sideways and ended up hitting her head on the windshield."

"So what's the doctor saying?"

"The neurosurgeon said that all the scans and stuff he has done have come back good – normal brain activity. But her head hurts her." They had arrived at the hospital. Getting out of the car and walking with Woody inside, Garrett continued. "She's just not regained full consciousness yet and she should have by now. That's what's got us all worried. One of us has been with her at all times – Nigel, Bug, Lily, me – even Peter. We've all talked to her and have tried our damnedest to get her to wake up. But she just kind of floats in and out of it. She hasn't spoken much." They had arrived at Jordan's floor. "I warn you, she looks pretty bad. Lots of tubes and wires."

Woody nodded. Garrett went over the CCU nurses station and asked the nurse if Woody could see Jordan. She told them to go ahead.

'"We're hoping that when she hears your voice, she'll pull out of it – open her eyes and wake up," said Garrett. He pulled the curtain back for Woody to enter the room. For a moment the detective was shocked. The tubes and wires that ran in and out of Jordan covered most of her body. Her head was still bandaged and blood from the head wound had settled, giving her a black eye on one side. Her face was scratched and there were cuts on her neck and shoulders. This did not look like the Jordan he knew. Wordlessly Woody looked to Garrett for an explanation.

"Everything's being monitored. And all her drugs are being given intravenously. Please see if you can get her to wake up."

Woody walked over to Jordan's bed and gently took her hand. "Hey Jo – it's me, Woody. I'm back from Kewuanee." He pulled a chair up to the bed. "Next time I go, I'm taking you with me. I leave here for one lousy week and see what kind of trouble you get into? You're no good without me."

A faint flicker of a smile crossed Jordan's face. Woody saw it. Encouraged, he continued.

"Jordan, come on. Please wake up. I need to talk to you. I need to see your eyes. Do you know how long it's been since I've seen your eyes? Come on, Jordan. Please?"

Jordan tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids were so heavy. Finally, mustering all the strength she had, her disobedient eyes slowly opened.

"There you are," Wood exclaimed. 'I knew you could do it. How's your head feeling?"

Blankly, Jordan stared at him. Finally, she asked, "Who the hell are you?" And then she thought for a minute. "And who the hell am I?"


	2. Amnesia

Amnesia.

That was the doctor's explanation. "The memory has gone into overload," he said. "The swelling of the brain, or edema, has not gone down yet. Until that happens, amnesia is quite common. In normal circumstances, the edema does not allow for the uninjured brain cells to take over the work of the injured brain cells. In Jordan's case, the head received a blow, but due to the air bag, the injury wasn't too severe because the scans and MRIs indicate that the brain activity is normal. Give her edema a little time to go down and her memory should return. Until then, just answer her questions as best you can. And don't be surprised if she asks you the same question three times in five minutes. A brain with edema also has a difficult time laying down a new memory."

Woody and Garret absorbed this information as the doctor tried to further explain Jordan's situation.

"But her memory will return, won't it?" asked Woody.

"It should. In normal cases, where the head injury is much more severe than Jordan's, the memory is back to normal within a year. She should be up and back 100 percent well before then."

"Do we know what part of her memory this affected, or will it affect all of her memory?" asked Garret.

"I can't answer that question," said the doctor. "Jordan will let you know that a little at the time."

Quietly, Woody went back to Jordan's room. "Hey, how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. My head feels a little better. The nurse gave me something….what did you say your name was again?"

"Woody."

"And my name is?"

"Jordan. Jordan Marie Cavanaugh."

"Jordan," she repeated to herself. "Jordan, Jordan," as if she was trying with all her might to commit this one tiny fact to memory.

Woody pulled up a chair. "It's okay if you don't remember. The doctor said that as the swelling in your brain goes down, you'll remember more and more. You'll be back to your old self in no time."

"Where am I at?"

"Right now you're at Massachusetts University Hospital."

"Do I live here?"

"Yes – you've lived here all your life."

"How did I get here?"

"You were in a bad car accident. A drunk driver hit you when you were coming home from work."

"Work….where do I work? What do I do?"

"You're a medical examiner for the state of Massachusetts."

Just then Garrett entered the room. Propping himself up with one arm on the doorframe, he said, "Yeah – you're a medical examiner. One of the best I've ever run across."

"Who are you?" Jordan asked.

Garrett smiled sadly. "I'm your boss – Garrett Macy."

"And are you a medical examiner, too?"

"Yes. We've worked together quite a few years."

Jordan laid her head back down on the pillow. This was all too much. Her name was…oh, damn, what was her name again? … Oh yeah, Jordan. Jordan. She had to remember that. Both of these guys looked so worried. Especially the one with the blue eyes. He had the bluest eyes she thought she had ever seen…not that she could remember very much. A medical examiner. Suddenly, she had to ask one more question.

"Old….how old am I?"

Softly stroking her hand, Woody replied, "You're twenty-nine, Jordan."

"What did you say your name was again?"

"Woody."

She smiled. "I'm sorry…I'm just having some trouble remembering right now."

"That's okay, Jo. Just try to get some rest. I'll see you in a little bit." Woody said, rising from his chair and leaving the room. He motioned for Garrett to follow him.

"So what do you think?" Woody asked.

"Well according to what little I know about amnesia and what I do know about brain injury, she's acting pretty normal."

Woody sighed. "It's hard to see her like this … so unsure of herself. That's one thing I've never thought of when dealing with Jordon – uncertainty. But she can't even remember her name very well. What's going to happen, Garrett?

"We've just got to be patient with her and give her time .. lots of time."

The doctors continued to run tests and evaluate Jordan for the next several days. Slowly, but surely, the edema went down. She had normal brain activity. "Her memory should be returning bit by bit," the doctor told a worried morgue staff and Woody.

And Jordan could remember simple things: her name, Woody's name, Garrett's name – but she couldn't remember the place in her life they held. Gradually, she learned to recognize Nigel, Bug, Lily, and Peter. Surprisingly, Jordan never asked about her family or her relationships with other people.

"Let her go at her own pace," the doctor said. "She will let you know when she's ready to know more."

It wasn't that Jordan didn't want to know. But every time she thought about asking more questions, it was like a wall went up in her mind. A wall she was scared to scale, go around or knock down. Something deep within her psychic told her she didn't want to go there. So she left it alone. It was bad enough she had to deal with these awful headaches and the worried looks of everyone around her.

Finally, the doctor said she was ready to go home. She had been in the hospital three weeks and she was now physically ready to leave. Emotionally, was a different issue.

"We can put her in some sort of assisted living arrangement, if you feel that would be best," the doctor told Garrett.

Garrett shook his head and wished, not for the last time, Max was home again. "No. No assisted living arrangements for Jordan. I've seen those and I don't like them. I'll take her home with me. I have an extra bedroom."

"That will work," said the doctor. "She definitely does not need to be on her own until some of her memory returns. Do you want to tell her, or do you want me to tell her?"

"I'll talk to her"

Garrett walked down the hallway to Jordan's room. By instinct, his feet took him to room 4015. He had walked this hall so many times he could find her room with his eyes closed. "Hey, Jord. How you feeling?"

Jordan was sitting up in bed, reading a magazine. Despite the fact that her memory had not returned, much of her old personality had – a comforting factor to everyone. "I'm fine. Do you know that awful lime green color is supposed to be 'in' this Spring? I'll look horrible in that…."

Garrett smiled. Her cheeks had some color in them now and her black eye was gone. For whatever reason, she had stopped straightening her hair and was letting it fall in waves over her shoulders. "Do you remember who I am?"

"Of course. You are my boss, Dr. Garrett Macy."

"How do you feel about getting out of here and going home?"

Jordan looked up in surprise. "Home? But where's ….."

Garrett came in the room and sat down by her bed. Taking her hand, he explained, "You have an apartment on Pearle Street, not far from where we work. But the doctor and I both agree that you shouldn't be by yourself – not yet – at least until some of your memory returns. So I'm going to take you home with me for a while. I have a two-bedroom apartment and you'll be comfortable there. We can ride to work together when you're feeling better."

"Can I go by where my apartment is and get some of my stuff?"

"Sure."

"When do I get to leave?"

"Your doctor says tomorrow."

The next day Garrett picked Jordan up and took her to her apartment. He was hoping, as they got off the elevator on the second floor, that once Jordan saw some of her normal surroundings, a memory may be jogged.

"Here we are," he said as he opened the big, red door. Jordan followed Garrett in and slowly looked around. She knew she had been here before, but somehow it didn't feel familiar.

"So…. This is where I live?"

"Yeah." Garrett watched her closely for any sign of recognition. She was slowly walking around her apartment, looking, but not touching anything – like she was in someone else's home – admiring how they had decorated, but afraid to handle anything for fear of breaking it. Walking into the bedroom, she began to go through her closet and dresser, pulling out things to pack.

"How long have I lived here?"

"Hmmm, about three years, I think."

"Oh."

Jordan emerged from the bedroom with her suitcase. "I think I'm ready."

Garrett drove Jordan back to his apartment and got her settled into her room. "Look, I'm going to have to go into work now," he said. "But Woody is coming over to stay with you. Tomorrow, if you feel like it, you can go into work with me and we'll see how much you remember about being a medical examiner, okay?"

Jordan nodded. Frankly, she was more tired than she let Garrett know. It wasn't so much the physical exertion that exhausted her. It was the mental effort that was wearing her out. Trying to remember. Trying to somehow prompt herself to remember something. Looking at faces, things….all in the hopes that it would trigger her memory back. But what was even worse, at least for Jordan, was watching the people around her, watch her, to see if she remembered anything. The looks of disappointment in their faces when nothing would come to her…nothing…it was too much to bear.

It wasn't that she wanted to continue in this memory-less void. She wanted to remember – names, places, events that happened to her. But they wouldn't come. It was like some kind of wall was there. And until she knew what to do with it, she knew, deep down inside, that she was destined simply not to remember her past. Just try to deal with the here and now and the what may come.


	3. Farm Boy?

"I should remember anyone with eyes that blue,' thought Jordan, as she watched Woody and Garret talk before Garrett had to leave to go to work. She knew, under her skin, that she was the topic of the conversation. Woody kept glancing back over at her. She knew what Garrett was telling him – when to make sure she took her medicine, about the headaches, making sure she turned in at a reasonable hour…..she felt like a three year-old. Finally, Garrett got in his car and left and Woody ambled into the house.

"Hi, Jo," he said, greeting her with a gentle hug. "How's it going today?"

"It's good to be out of the hospital."

Woody laughed. "I bet. I know the food there was just great," he said sarcastically. "How about we order pizza later? I brought one of your favorite movies to watch."

Jordan threw him a quizzical look as he thrust the DVD in her hand. "The Princess Bride?" she asked.

'Yeah, you're a closet romantic, whether you want to admit it or not. Let me get changed and we'll order the pizza and watch the movie."

A few minutes later Woody emerged from the bedroom in jeans and a sweatshirt. Picking up the phone, he asked, "The works?" Jordan looked confused for only a moment.

'Oh, yeah – everything except anchovies."

Woody grinned. "That was nice," he thought, as he dialed the number, "She remembered how she liked her pizza. Maybe her memory is coming back." When the pizza arrived, Woody pulled a beer for himself out of Garrett's refrigerator and handed Jordan a Diet Coke. "No alcohol for you, young lady, at least not until your off your meds."

Jordan grinned as she and Woody settled down on the couch to watch the move. She couldn't believe she actually had liked The Princess Bride. And although she couldn't remember much about Woody, it seemed as if in the past they had a good relationship – close one. Maybe one that was a little more than friendship? She didn't know…and she'd hate to jump the gun and ask and then be embarrassed.

Woody grabbed the remote and fast forwarded through the opening credits. The scene opened up with Buttercup on her horse, riding back to the barn. Jordan was only half paying attention, as she was busily eating her pizza. Suddenly the phrase "Farm Boy" caught her attention.

"Stop," she asked Woody. "Back that up."

Woody did as she asked, and watched her carefully. "Back it up again," she said. Finally, after watching the scene three times, she whispered. "Farm boy. That sounds so familiar."

Trying to be as casual as possible, Woody sat up and said, "Well, you've seen the movie at least a hundred times."

"No, no. It's not that. I've used that phrase before…"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I have. I used to call somebody that all the time," Jordan wracked her brain. "Was it Nigel or Peter or Bug or…no, wait a minute…it was you," She turned around and looked at Woody. "I called you Farm Boy, didn't I?" She was nearly gloating over her one, tiny regained memory.

Woody grinned. "Yeah, you do…you call me Farm Boy a lot – even though I didn't grow up on farm. I'm from Wisconsin and you just automatically thought everyone that lived in Wisconsin were cheese farmers or something."

They both were sitting on the couch, watching the movie. Woody's arm was thrown casually over the back of the couch, not really around Jordan's shoulders, but close enough that her hair was falling on his arm and his hand rested just centimeters away from her shoulder. For the first time in weeks, Jordan felt relaxed and secure – like nothing could hurt her. She wondered if she had felt this way about him before the accident. Taking a deep breath, she decided to try to clear up one end of her cloudy memories.

"Ummmm, say Woody, were you my really my Farm Boy? I mean, did I go around barking orders at you and expect you to do what I said?"

Woody leaned his head on the back of the couch and laughed. "In a way, yes. You will go after the truth with the tenacity of a pitbull. Nothing stands in your way. And if I can do something to help you get to the truth, you will ask me to help. It's not exactly an order, you're too charming for that, but I know you mean business."

Jordan looked down. She thought that description didn't exactly put her in the most pleasant light. "I'm sorry," she said. "I don't think I meant to order you around, but if I did, I'm sorry."

Woody caught her chin in his hand, raising her eyes to his. "No, don't apologize, Jor. It's been fun. You make it fun. I can't imagine doing anything else with anybody else."

Knowing that this was an open door, Jordan asked, "Woody, were we more than just friends before my accident?"

Woody sighed. Releasing her chin, he turned the TV off and took both of her hands in one of his. He had always thought her hands were so tiny. It gave her an air of fragility. They always felt so right in his larger one – like a hand in a glove. "Jordan, I've always told you and everyone else, that you are my best friend, and you are. Only for me, it's gone a little deeper than that. But you…you… on the other hand, weren't so sure, even though you made the first move on me."

"I did?"

"Yeah. We were in California working on a case together – well, actually, I was on the case and I had told you to stay home. But remember when I said what you were like when you were searching for the truth? You followed me out there and we solved the case together. During the process, however, our car broke down and we were stranded in the desert. You kissed me while we were out there and then I asked you to kiss me again before we left to come home, and you did."

"Oh…then what happened?" Jordan figured they had started dating and then broke up, but remained friends.

"Well, you decided that we shouldn't do that anymore – just go back to being friends and co-workers. So we did in a way. But it was never the same after that. I think we both knew we felt something deeper than just a friendship. So I've always said you were my best friend, and you…well, you called me for anything you needed – help with a case, Starbucks, someone to hold you when a bad thunderstorm comes up."

"I'm scared of storms?"

Woody chuckled. "Just a little."

"So after I kissed you, I just gave you the brush off?"

"No, no, Jordan, not like that. It was like you put up a wall. You said you didn't want me to get hurt."

'There it is,' thought Jordan. 'The wall….the one that I feel I can't get over in order to remember.' She honestly was going to have to take Woody at face value on the information he had just given her. She couldn't remember anything, and she'd give her right arm to remember the kiss. But the wall…the wall in her memory wouldn't come down and let her. Suddenly her head began to throb viciously. Her hands flew to her temples.

"What is it Jord? Your head, do you need to go to the hospital?"

"No, it's just these headaches I have since the accident. They really hurt. I need my medicine." She made to get up off the couch and go get it, but Woody beat her to it.

"Sit still," he said. "I'll get it for you."

He came back with the pills and watched her take them. Afterwards, he pulled her against him and lay down with her on the couch, gently wrapping his arms around her and rubbing her back.

"I must have been crazy," said a sleepy Jordan, feeling very safe, secure, and warm in his arms.

"What do you mean?" asked Woody.

"To tell you to back off….Did I ever change my mind?"

Woody snuggled her closer. Memory or no memory, she still felt like Jordan and he could feel the effect it was taking on his body. "I don't know, Jordan. If you did, you haven't told me yet."

Soon, her deep even breathing told him that she was asleep. Woody checked his watch. Garrett still wouldn't be home for several hours. Reaching for a throw on the back of the couch, Woody pulled it over the both of them and settled down to hold Jordan while she slept. If being with her brought back one old memory, maybe holding her while she slept would leave her with a pleasant new one.

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Woody woke to the feeling of someone shaking him awake. It was Garrett. Gently easing himself from around Jordan so she wouldn't wake up, he stood and made his way to the kitchen, where Garrett was motioning for him to follow.

"How's she doing?" Garrett asked.

"Good. She's better. I purposely made her watch _The Princess Bride_ with me tonight and she remembered that she used to call me Farm Boy."

Garrett grinned. An unprompted memory. That was good news.

"Then she asked questions about me and her."

"Sticky situation, huh?"

"Not too bad. But she had one of her headaches tonight. I gave her the meds, and then she fell asleep."

"Yeah, the doctor said the headaches were a typical part of the healing process, but they should get better as time goes by."

"I'll help get her to bed now and then I'm heading back to my apartment and get ready for work."

Woody went back into the living room while Garrett went into Jordan's bedroom to pull down the sheets. Looking at her face, Woody couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret. Regret that he didn't really tell her how he felt tonight, but he was afraid those emotions may be too much for her to handle right now. Regret that her father wasn't here to help take care of her. Regret that this was just one more bad hand that life had dealt her. He ran his fingers softly down her cheek and then scooped her up in his arms. As if by instinct, her arms found his neck. He carried her into the bedroom and carefully laid her down on the bed. Jordan murmured a faint protest when he released her, but buried her head deep in a pillow and was soon sound asleep again. He pulled the bed covers snugly around her and left, shutting the door behind him.

"Go home and get some rest, Woody. I'll take care of her now. I plan on letting her sleep in tomorrow and then taking her with me to work. I want to see if she remembers anything about being a medical examiner."

"What if she doesn't?"

Garrett sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. That was one of his worse nightmares – what if she didn't remember any of her years of training? "I don't know. I haven't figured that part out yet. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."


	4. I am a Medical Examiner

"Jordan, Jordan, wake up."

Jordan heard a voice softly whisper her name. Snuggling her head down further in her pillow, she wondered where Woody had gone. This definitely wasn't his chest – it wasn't hard and it had no heartbeat. Slowly she opened her eyes. How'd she get in her bedroom?

"Jor?" It was Garrett. "Ready to get up and go with me into work today?"

"Sure – give me a few minutes."

Jordan showered, did her make up and hair, and dressed. She and Garrett were soon at the Medical Examiners office. Garrett led her upstairs and into her office. "Any of this look familiar?" he asked.

Jordan slowly looked around. "In a way, it does. I remember that file cabinet over there is the open cases," she said, pointing to the one on the right. "The one in the middle is for closed cases, and the one on the left is for cold cases." She turned to Garrett, looking for some sort of confirmation.

"That's right. Do you remember the last case you worked on?"

"The Stephenson case. It was an automobile accident, but he didn't die from the accident. He had a stroke while he was driving."

Garrett grinned. So far, Jordan was batting a thousand. "Let's go to Nigel's and Bug's office and see what else you can remember.

"Hi, Nige," greeted Jordan, as she and Garrett entered the office.

"Well, hello love. You are looking smashing today. How's that pretty, little head of yours?"

"It's doing better." Jordan smiled at Nigel. Somewhere in her mind, she did believe that Nigel was one of her best friends.

"I brought Jordan in for a little test, guys. I'm trying to see what all she remembers about her work. So far, she's remembering everything I've asked her about, but I need you to put her through the paces here," said Garrett.

"Now is a good time," said Bug. We're getting ready to do an autopsy in exam room one."

"Good. Jordan, why don't you go down to the locker room and change and meet us back here?" Garrett asked. "Do you remember where it is?"

"Sure. Just down the hall and around the corner." Jordan shook her head. This was getting old. If there was one place she felt at ease since her accident it was this morgue. It felt like home. Everything was familiar. She had no problem remember where her locker was or where the scrubs were.

"Look guys," Garrett was talking to Bug and Nigel. "I've got to know how much she remembers about her training and her job. There can be no second guessing on this one. I'll observe, but I want no prompting from you. You ask her if she remembers how to do something before you perform the procedure. If there is any hesitation, don't let her go any further." Bug and Nigel nodded.

"Okay guys, I'm ready. What have we got?" Jordan said coming into the exam room, snapping on the latex gloves.

"Male, 27, found dead in his apartment this morning," Garrett said. "Now how about time of death? How do you find it?"

Without hesitation, Jordan picked her the young man's arm and tried to bend it. Then she took a liver temperature. "I'd say between 12 and 15 hours ago." Garrett nodded, so far so good.

"But did anyone check the fluid in his eyes before now?"

Nigel grinned. His girl was doing good. "I've got it love. Now what?"

Jordan looked over to Garrett. "Want me to do the Y-incision?"

"Yeah, you're doing fine…go for it."

"Has anyone done a tox screen yet?" she asked.

"It's in the works," said Bug, grinning. He was relieved that Jordan was doing so well. It would be good to have her back in the morgue again.

Jordan picked up her scalpel and without any hesitation performed the autopsy like she had never missed a day or work. At the end of the three hour procedure, Jordan was more like her old self than ever.

"So how'd I do, boss," Jordan asked as she and Garrett made their way back to his office.  
  
Garrett put his arm around her. "Outstanding. Absolutely outdamnstanding. But how are you feeling? Did it tire you out too much?"

Jordan plopped down on the couch in Garrett's office. "No. To be honest, this is the best I have felt in weeks. I may not remember people, but I remember this place," she said, gesturing out to the morgue, "And I remember my job. That makes me feel good."

"Any headaches?"

"None."

Garrett grinned. "Okay, I'll put you on half days for a couple of weeks and we'll keep you supervised until everyone in the Boston PD and DA's office is comfortable with you being back at work. Then I'll plug you in full time. Okay?"

"Sounds great."

"Well, what do we have here? Or rather, who do we have here?" said a voice from the doorway.

"Afternoon, Dr. Stiles," said Garrett.

"Good afternoon, Garret. Jordan."

Jordan looked at the short man. 'I have absolutely no clue,' she thought. But she held out her hand. "Hi, Dr. Stiles."

"Do you remember me, Jordan?"

Jordan thought she may as well play it honest. She had no idea if the Dr. in Dr. Stiles meant he was another ME or some other doctor. "No…I'm having a little trouble with people right now."

Dr. Stiles smiled and sat down on the couch beside her. "Well, that's to be expected with short-term amnesia. I'm sure it will pass. Can you remember people after they introduce themselves to you?"

"Oh, yeah. No problem there."

"Good…"

"She remembers how to do her job, Stiles," said Garrett, leaning on his desk and crossing his arms across his chest.

"So you remember how to perform autopsies, but you don't remember people?"

Jordan shook her head no.

"Interesting……well, look. I gotta run. Meeting the wife for lunch. If you need to talk, call me Jordan. I'll be checking back again with you later."

After Dr. Stiles left, Jordan asked Garrett, "Who was he?"

"He's the state psychiatrist. He was just sort of seeing where you were at."

"Do I like him?"

"None of us really like him, Jordan. But he's just doing his job. And he is very good at what he does."

And so Jordan's life settled into a routine for the next few weeks. She worked half a day and then someone would either take her back to Garrett's apartment, or she'd hang out with Nigel, or Woody would spend time with her. But if the truth was known, she was happiest at the morgue. It felt familiar. It felt like an old friend. It felt like home. She knew what she was doing there and didn't have to ask questions. If she was buried in her work, the dead people didn't care if she no longer recognized them. And all the DA and police wanted were answers. She knew what she was doing there and everything made sense. Finally, one afternoon after Garrett made her clock out, she strolled into Nigel's office for some conversation.

"Hey, Nige."

"Hey yourself, love. Why aren't you back at Garrett's propping your feet up and resting your head?"

"My head's had enough rest for a lifetime, Nige. I'm ready for some sort of normal life."

"Normal's just setting on your dryer."

"You know what I mean. Working full time. Back in my apartment at night. Driving my car – you know. I want my life back."

"When do you go back to your doctor?"

"Next week."

"Maybe he'll let you have your life back then."

"I hope so….I really hope so. I'm doing better – I haven't had a headache in days now."

Nigel looked her over from head to toe. Physically, Jordan looked fine – as if nothing happened. But her amnesia bothered him. Not on the level that she couldn't remember people, but the fact that she didn't seem to push herself to remember. That nagged at him because they had been best friends for years. They had gone through so much together, that to have him only remember their past just didn't seem fair. For Nigel, to have Jordan remember her past also secured her in his future. They had a history together. "What's say we leave and go get a cup of coffee, love?"

"Sure – sounds great."

Walking down to the coffee shop on the corner, they ordered their drinks and sat down at a small table in the back of the shop where they wouldn't be bothered. Gingerly, so as not to upset her, Nigel broached the subject of her memory and headaches.

"So no headaches in a while, pet?"

"No – not since I started work. That's why I figure if I can get my life completely back to normal, there won't be anymore headaches."

"Painful are they?"

Jordan couldn't begin to describe the pain – it was unbearable. "They are excruciating."

"Jordan, this may be a little presumptuous of me, but do you think the reason that you're not having anymore headaches is because you are too busy to try to make yourself remember your past?"

Jordan shook her head. "It's not that I don't want to remember, Nige…"

"I know that, love, but after you first had your accident, I watched you struggle to try to remember things. Well, not so much things as people. You would try to recognize faces and put them in perspective. Now that your back – and I am so glad you are – you seem content to just let us tell you who folks are. And now you can remember their names. But what you're not remembering is your past with that person. How do they fit into your life? You sometimes ask us, but what you're getting is our interpretation of your relationship with that person – not what truly is your relationship with him. Do you get what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, sort of…"

"Why aren't you trying anymore?"

"It's not that I don't want to, it's that I can't."

"But the doctor said the when the edema went down…."

"I know what the doctor said," Jordan replied, rather sharply. "But I'm telling you what is happening with me. I can't remember. It's like there's some kind of wall there that is keeping me from remembering…..people, relationships. And when I try to, or I see something that jogs my memories, I get the headaches. And the pain medication doesn't really help, it just makes me sleepy. It's just hurts too much."

Nigel took all this in, turning it over in his mind. "Well, love, I've got to get back to work and I bet Garrett is standing on his head wondering what has happened to you. Let me get you back, okay?" He stood and gently steered Jordan towards the door. At his office, he finally let go of her arm. "Go home. Rest. And don't worry," he said, planting a chaste kiss on her forehead. "It will come back….your memory will come back Jordan."

He watched his friend retreat down the hall to Garrett's office. He knew what had happened to Jordan. He knew better than any doctor or anyone else for that matter. The walls, those walls that Jordan had so carefully constructed to keep people out – to keep them from hurting her or her from hurting them – those walls had finally shut her painful past out, but in returned had trapped her inside her own mind


	5. A Beer, the Pogue, and the Mother of all...

Four months. It had been four months since the accident. The doctor had given Jordan permission to return back to her apartment on Pearle Street and to drive her car. With much trepidation, Garrett had moved her back ihome. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?" he had asked.

"Garrett, I'll be fine. And if I need you, you're what, five minutes away? And Woody's even closer than you are. And Nigel will come if I need him, too."

"I know. I just worry."

"Well, don't. I'll be fine. I will call you the minute I feel a headache coming on."

"Promise?"

"Promise – Girl Scouts Honor."

"Jordan, you were never a Girl Scout."

"See – you learn something new everyday…."

And so her life returned to normal. Or at least it appeared to. She still was struggling to try to remember her past. But as soon as old memories would begin to float to the surface of her consciousness, the headaches would rear up in the background and fade them out to oblivion again.

Noticing she had not made any further progress with her memories, Nigel and Woody grew worried. After Nigel had told Woody what Jordan had revealed to him at the coffee shop, they both decided to approach Garrett.

"Yeah, I've sort of noticed. She never asks me about her past – how did we meet, where was she at before she came here…nothing," Garrett said.

Nigel related to Garrett what Jordan had told him about trying to remember and then getting the headaches.

"Well as painful as those headaches are, I can understand why she tries not to remember," said Garrett.

"But she needs her past….we need her to remember the past," said Woody. "She is seems to be okay, but there's a huge chunk of Jordan missing – the part that made her the individual she is. We've got to get that back for her."

"Unfortunately, it may be a painful process. Can we stand watching her go through that in order to get her memory back? Or will we cave and just provide her with information as she wants to know it?" asked Nigel.

"According to the doctor, her memory should have returned by now," answered Garrett. At her last exam, the doctor couldn't understand why it hadn't. Her edema has been completely gone for nearly three and a half months. Her memory should be back."

"Well, it's not," Woody said. "I think we may need to help her jump start it."

"Any suggestions on how to do that?" asked Nigel.

"Yeah," replied Woody. "Let's take her to the Pogue."

==========================================

"Let me get this straight," Jordan said to the three men that cornered her in her office. "All of you want to take me out for drinks tonight after work?"

"One beer," said Woody. "Just one. Just in case you have to take your medicine again."

"What's the occasion?" asked Jordan.

"Nothing, love. It's just good to have you back full time – back in the swing of things, you know. Just a little celebration between friends," said Nigel.

Jordan looked at them skeptically. "Okay, where are we going?"

"There's a little bar not too far from here. I'll pick you up around seven and we'll go spend the evening there – the four of us," said Woody

Jordan shot them another "I-don't-believe-a-word-your-saying' look and gave in. "Okay. Seven it is."

At seven, Woody found himself in front of the red door at her apartment. She answered when he knocked. He still thought Jordan was the hottest woman he had ever met. Despite the fact he knew that she remembered nothing of their past, he still melted under the gaze of her whiskey colored eyes. Tonight was no exception. Dressed in a black silky top and form-fitting jeans, she looked, well---beautiful.

"Hi," he said, "are you ready to go?"

"Just a minute, let me get my purse. Come on in."

Woody noticed nothing had changed in her apartment. It was still the same as it had been. "You look nice," he said as Jordan came out of her bedroom.

"Thanks. Are Garrett and Nigel meeting us there?"

"Yeah."

And they were at The Pogue by the time Jordan and Woody arrived. They had taken the back booth that Jordan had preferred for long talks. She and Woody had sat there so many times in the past. They also had alerted the staff that Jordan would be coming, but to make no mention of the fact that she owned the bar or especially not to mention Max right now. The men were trying to jog her memory a little at the time. They didn't want her to go into overload.

"Hey guys," Jordan greeted them as she and Woody came to the table. "What's good?"

"Well, you've always preferred a Guinness in the past," said Nigel. He was looking her over carefully, seeing if there was any flicker of recognition in her eyes. Nothing.

"Sounds good. Woody's limiting me to one tonight, so I guess just one will have to do me."

Beers ordered, the men sat back and tried to be casual around Jordan, making small talk and pretending that nothing was going on. Truth be known, Jordan was under intense scrutiny.

And Jordan was not immune to this feeling. She felt like they were watching her too closely, that the meeting had been too scripted for it just to be a normal night out. These men had too carefully watched over her life after her accident to just let anything happen. Nervously, she peeled the label from her bottle. She was just about to ask Garrett what was going on when Nigel challenged her to a game of pool.

"Sounds great," she responded, at this point willing to do anything to break the atmosphere.

They got up and moved to one of the pool tables. "Did I play?" she asked Woody.

"Yeah, you were pretty good."

She lined up her shot and broke the balls. In quick order she had Nige on the ropes. It wasn't very long before she had his twenty dollars in her pocket. Smugly she asked, "Any other takers?"

Woody laughed. "I've lost too much money from you in the past to even think about it."

Garrett shook his head no. "No way. Same for me."

They sat back down. Jordan had worked up enough courage to ask the question that had been on her mind since this afternoon when they had extended the invitation to her. "Okay, guys, why am I here? Am I being fired or something?"

Again, Garrett shook his head. "No Jo, you're not being fired. I … We… I mean ….Do you not remember anything about this place Jo?"

"So I have been here in the past."

"Many times," said Woody, reaching out and taking her hands. "This is one of your favorite places to go."

"Then why can't I remember it? I remember places, it's people I have a hard time with. Why can't I remember?"

"Just relax, love, it may come back to you in a minute or two," said Nigel, still watching her carefully.

Jordan furrowed her brow and frowned. For the life of her she could not remember….not shooting pool, not this place, not drinking or eating here…it wasn't coming…the memories were not coming.

"Sorry, I'm getting nothing," she said, sitting back in her chair with a sigh. She looked defeated and tired.

Woody rubbed her hand. "Then dance with me, Jordan. Maybe that will help." He stood, still holding her hand.

They moved out to the dance floor, swaying to the music on the jukebox. He gently spun her out and then back to him, holding her close.

"Woody?"

"Yeah?"

"We've done this before, haven't we?"

"Many times. Do you remember?"

"Not so much the dancing…."

He shot her a puzzled look.

"If I tell you something, do you promise not to laugh or take it the wrong way?" she asked.

"Sure. What is it?"

"It's not so much the dancing I remember, Wood. It's the feeling I have when I'm with you, like this, in your arms."

Woody pulled her tighter to him and lowered his head closer to hers so he could hear her better. She was barely whispering, her voice catching on her words. "What is it, Jo? You can tell me. You don't have to be afraid."

"I just feel safest with you. Like nothing is going to happen to me here. You're not going to let anything happen to me. I don't know…it's just a feeling."

Woody wrapped both arms around her waist. "Nothing is going to happen to you here, Jo. I've tried to keep you safe and out of harm's way almost ever since I've known you. And sometimes you didn't make it easy," he said, chuckling.

"What did I do?'

Still chuckling, Woody replied, "That would take days to tell. You'll remember in time. And then you'll know I deserve the bronze star and a medal for valor and devotion above and beyond the call of duty."

The music had stopped now, but Jordan made no move to go back to the table. "I must have been something to deal with."

"No, you just pursue the truth with great persistence and energy." Woody led her back to the table.

"Excuse me, I need to go to the powder room," she said, disappearing down the stairs and around the corner. The men watched her retreat.

"Any luck?" Garrett asked.

"A little. She sort of remembered dancing with me. But not a whole lot else. She's still drawing a blank."

"At least she's trying to remember again," said Nigel. He was a little disappointed and a lot worried. That wall was not letting anything through her memory banks.

In the bathroom, Jordan leaned her heated head against the cool wall. She needed her meds. She could feel the headache coming. Hurriedly, she searched through her purse. 'Damn,' she thought as she remembered it was at home on her kitchen counter. Massaging her temples, she tried to will the pain away. She needed to leave – and soon. If her memory of the past was going to come back, it would have to on its own. She wasn't going to try anymore. And she wasn't going to let herself be put in a situation where she was forced to try to remember. She knew Garret, Nigel, and Woody meant well, but the pain wasn't worth it. If the past hurt this badly, she didn't want to remember it. What was so bad about just forgetting it and making new memories? Oh, God… her head. She needed to get out of here, fast. Splashing her face with cold water, she looked herself over in the mirror. She could pass muster. Pinning a smile on her lips, she went back out to the guys.

"You okay?" asked Woody.

"I'm fine. But I need to get home. I have to be in early tomorrow."

They stood up to leave, Woody taking her arm and leading her out. "Thanks, guys, I appreciate it. Maybe we can do this again, soon?" she asked.

They nodded and said good night. Woody took her to his car. Garrett and Nigel walked off in a different direction.

"So what do you think?" Garret asked Nigel.

"I think we need to try something different. And soon. I'm afraid the longer Jordan doesn't remember, the less of a chance we have of her remembering her past at all."


	6. A Visit with Dr Stiles

On the way back to her apartment, Jordan was quiet, trying to deal with the massive headache she knew was coming. She didn't want to worry Woody, so she was pretending to be sleepy, but she knew if she didn't get her meds in her quickly, there was going to be hell to pay. This was the worse headache ever. 'The mother of all headaches,' she thought, as Woody parked his car and walked around to her side to open the door and help her out.

"Are you okay Jo?" he asked as they walked into her building and got in the elevator to go to the second floor. Woody was worried. She was too pale. She had only had one beer, and only drank less than half of that. It couldn't be the alcohol.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just a little tired," she replied as they got to her door. Now if he would just let her in and leave so she could take her meds.

"I don't know, you don't look well."

Jordan turned to face him, opening her mouth to tell him she was okay, she just needed to go to bed. But she couldn't focus. Woody's face was hazy. The pain in her head was slicing it's way though her brain. She could feel her stomach rebelling.

Woody grabbed her by the upper arms. "Jordan?"

He got no further. She slumped to the floor in a dead faint.

=================================================

She awoke in a familiar hospital room. 'Oh, damn,' she thought 'here we go again. Back at square one.'

A pair of concerned blue eyes greeted hers as they slowly focused on her surroundings. "Jordan?' Woody asked. "How are you feeling? How is your head?"

Jordan tried to sit up, but Woody promptly settled her back in her hospital bed. "I'm better…..what happened?"

"What do you remember?"

"I remember being at The Pogue. I remember you taking me home. And I remember my head hurting…."

"You fainted. I called 911 and the doctor said we needed to get you back here. They've done some more scans and a couple of MRI's. We should know the results of them soon."

"Garrett and Nigel?"

"They know. They'll be here soon. Why don't you see if you can get some rest?"

Jordan's eyes were already heavy again. Soon she was asleep. Woody looked at her and ran his fingers through his hair. He was worried. Worried as hell. Every time she tried to remember, her brain would rebel. Maybe Nigel was right. Maybe the wall she had put up was going to be too hard to get down. Maybe it was just best they let her be and answer her questions as she asked. He didn't know what to do.

A few hours later, with Nigel and Garrett in the room with Woody and Jordan, the doctor came in.

"Afternoon, gentlemen. How are you feeing, Jordan?"

"Cut to the chase doc. What's up with my head?" Jordan asked.

"Well, it's a good news, bad news situation, Dr. Cavanaugh. The good news is your scans and MRI's came back fine. No clots, no bleeding, no edema. Your brain is in excellent working condition. The bad news is that there is no explanation of why you are not remembering. No physical explanation, anyway."

"So she should be fine by now – her memory working and everything?" asked Garrett.

"Everything should be working by now. But it's not. I don't think there's a physical reason why Jordan's not remembering," the doctor told them.

"Then what could it be?" Jordan asked. "It's not like I'm not trying."

The doctor looked at Jordan with concern in his eyes. "I know you're trying Jordan. But something deep inside you doesn't want to remember. This is not a medical problem any longer. I can prescribe you pain medications for as long as you need them. But I can't do anything else for you. This requires other help, like a psychiatrist. You need help getting through this. If your brain, your memory, allows you to remember at all.

"I'm going to call a nurse in now to help you get ready to go home. There's no reason why you should stay here tonight. I'm giving you another prescription for pain medication and upping the dose. Take it the minute, I mean the minute, you feel a headache coming on."

The doctor motioned for the men to follow him out in the hall as the nurse got Jordan ready to go home.

"I think someone needs to stay with her for a couple of days to make sure she's going to be okay," the doctor said.

"I will," said Woody, remembering Jordan said she felt safest with him…it was the least he could do to help her through this…at least make her feel safe.

The doctor nodded in approval. "Do you know of a good psychiatrist that could help Jordan?" he asked.

"There's Dr. Stiles. He's the state psychiatrist that evaluates us. He's evaluated Jordan before, so he has a good idea of her past," said Garrett.

"I think that would be a good idea," said the doctor. "Was her past so horrendous that she may not really want to remember?"

The men were silent for a moment. Finally Nigel answered. "Let's just say that the lady was handed more to deal with by the age of ten than most people are dealt in a life time. And in some ways, it's just gone down hill from there."

===================================================

Jordan nervously fidgeted on the couch in Dr. Stiles' office.

"It's okay if you want to get up and walk around," Dr. Stiles said. "You've never been one to keep too still."

Jordan flashed him a grateful smile. She was nervous, and a little afraid. She told Garret, Nigel, and Woody that she thought she would be happy to live out the rest of her life without remembering her past. Just to continue to go on with her life and make new memories. But they were not content to let her alone. "Don't you think you're going to wonder at some time in your life about your past?" asked Nigel. "Then you may not be able to remember on your own. You'll have to rely on us and we may not have the full picture."

Woody had encouraged her – no, pushed is a better word – her to try one more time, this time with professional help. "If you can't remember, then no regrets. But the your past is important to you. It's important to me."

So here she was, in Dr. Stiles' office, pacing his floor, fidgeting with her necklace, wondering what to say.

"Okay, Jordan, I'll start. Do you remember me?" asked Dr. Stiles.

"Honestly, no. I know that Garrett told me you were the state psychiatrist that did our evaluations and I wasn't fond of them."

Dr Stiles chuckled. "That was putting it pretty mildly. You would hide from me until about two years ago. Then something happened that made you come to me. From that point on we've been fairly good friends. Do you remember what happened?"

"No. Could you tell me?"

"No, dear. You need to remember on your own."

"But I can't….my memory won't come. I've tried."

"What happens when you try, Jordan?"

Jordan went back over to the couch and sat back down in front of Dr. Stiles. Leaning forward, her elbows on her knees and her hands clasped in front of her, she tried to answer his question in the best way she knew how.

"It's kind of hard to explain. It's like the memory is out there, I can almost see it, almost grab it with both hands, and then it fractures into a million pieces and fades away. That's when the headaches come."

"How bad are your headaches?"

"It's the worst pain I've ever known."

"Did you take your medication before you came to see me today?"

"Oh, yes. I don't want another one."

"So, what do you know about the past?"

"Only a couple of things that I've remembered on my on. I used to call Woody Farm Boy. What I like on my pizza. I can remember how to be a medical examiner. But that's about it. The rest is what people have told me. I've lived in Boston most of my life, Nigel is my best friend. Woody and I are something a little more than best friends. Garrett's been my boss for almost four years ….just stuff like that."

"Have you asked about anything else?"

Jordan sighed and got back up. Walking to a window, she gazed at the landscape. Dr. Stiles' office was across the street from a park, complete with playground. There were a lot of children on the swings and in the sandbox. Idly, she wondered what she was like as a child…what her parents were like….she had never asked about her parents. "I asked the usual questions, am I married, do I have kids, and they told me no. I try not to ask too much."

"Why?"

"Because it's almost like I can feel something kicking in my system. I know that I know the answers, but there's something there, in my head, that doesn't want me to remember. And that causes the headaches." She swung back around to face him. "Does that make sense?"

Dr. Stiles got up out of his chair and walked over to Jordan. She looked extremely fragile. 'Nerves of steel and yet she is as vulnerable as the day she was born,' he thought. Taking her hands, he said, "Jordan, that makes more sense than you know. I think I can help you, but it's not going to be easy. You may have to deal with some pain, both emotionally and physically. But in the end, I'm pretty sure we can get you back on track."

"What are you going to do?"

"You need to be confronted with your past bit by bit. I'll be there to help you through this, but your friends are going to have to agree to help, too. They were such an important part of your life, they need to be the ones that confront you."

"Sort of like an intervention?"

Dr. Stiles nodded. "Exactly."

"What if that still doesn't work?"

"We could do hypnosis, but that wouldn't work as well and may plant memories in your head that aren't real – that never happened.

"Jordan, I want you to know that you are at a unique place in your life – a place that a lot of people would love to be at."

Jordan gave him a puzzled look.

"You are. You have a unique opportunity to start your life over as anyone you really want to be. In your mind, you don't have a past. So conceivably, you could begin again as anyone, any where, doing anything you want to. So think about that. Evidently, there is something in your past that your mind doesn't want to remember. Do you really want to learn what it is? Or do you want to start over, new and fresh?"

Jordan thought for a moment. 'I….I…. don't know."

Dr. Stiles looked deep into her eyes. "Think about it Jordan. Is the pain really going to be worth it?"

"I … don't know…I'm not sure…."

He handed Jordan his business card. "When and if you're sure you want to go through with this, call me." She turned to go. "And Jordan," he called out, "No one will blame you if you don't."


	7. Interventions

Jordan left Dr. Stiles office and walked across the street to the park. She sat down on one of the benches and watched the kids play on the swings. They were so happy, so carefree. And here she was with a major decision to make.

'I could start over. I could be anything. I could leave Boston and become a new person,' she thought. 'I could be a florist, own a coffee shop, be a teacher….I could marry and start a family.' That thought startled her for some reason.

But the idea, at least of starting over, was appealing. Creating herself anew. At least that way her headaches wouldn't bother her. She could have fresh, new memories in a fresh, new place.

But she would be alone.

That was not appealing. She realized that even though she couldn't remember a lot about Nigel, Bug, Peter, Lily, and Garrett, they were a big part of her life. The morgue felt like home. They felt like family. Family. She didn't even know if she had a family. No one had mentioned it and she hadn't asked. It was one of those things that she knew instinctively that her mind didn't want to remember. Maybe they were all killed in a horrible accident. May she was an orphan.

And then there was Woody. Woody, with those blue eyes and flashing dimples. Woody – the person that she felt most secure with. She couldn't just walk away from him. What was even more important, she didn't want to. She was aware he was holding back his feelings for her in difference to her memory – or rather lack of it.

No, her life was in Boston – good and bad memories. Sighing, she got up from the bench. It was time. It had been nearly six months since the accident. It was now or never. Retrieving her cell phone from her pocket, she called Dr. Stiles. He answered on the second ring.

"Do it," she said. "Plan this intervention. It's time. I'll deal with the pain – all of it."

"You're sure."

"Positive."

=======================================

Dr. Stiles called Garrett and had everyone except Jordan meet in the conference room at the morgue after work. Briefly, he explained what was about to take place.

"What is important is that each of you confronts her with your relationship with her in the past. This is not an intervention, per se, but close. Your need to tell her what went on, but there are no accusations. I'm sure that with some of you, Jordan will accuse her own self enough for everyone. She's extremely fragile right now, but open to this.

"It's to be done as gently as possible and I'll be there. It may involve going some places that were important to her. Like her mother's grave. It may involve blood, sweat, and tears, but we'll get her through this and we will all survive. I've talked with her doctor and she will be on her meds while we go through this.

"This is not going to be easy on either you or her. Don't expect it to be. I would recommend that you get a good idea of what you're going to say before you talk with her."

"What do we need to plan to say?" asked Bug.

"Just tell her some of the things that you and she did in the past. How you helped her. How she helped you. How you feel about her. For some of you, it won't take but a little while. For others of you," Dr. Stiles glances over at Nigel, Woody, and Garret, "it may take awhile. The trick is to give her enough to start thinking about that her memory triggers in."

"What about that wall – the thing that keeps her from remembering? How do we deal with that?" asked Nigel.

"You don't. That's where I come in."

"How do we start?" asked Woody. He wasn't excited about the possibility of seeing Jordan in such pain again. He didn't know if he could handle it, and he was still staying at her apartment with her, bunked out on the couch at night.

"We start a little at the time. Probably with Peter, then Lily, then Bug. Then we'll move on from there. Are we all agreeable to this?"

Everyone nodded and left the conference room. Dr. Stiles snagged Nigel by the arm and motioned for Woody and Garret to stay behind.

"I really think we need him here," he said. "She's going to have questions about her family and he figures in so prominently in her past that he needs to come home. What do you think?"

Garrett nodded. "I had thought about that. We're just not sure where he's at."

"I know. I've looked through her apartment and can't find anything about where he is," said Woody. "Unless she didn't figure it was important and threw the information away."

"Can you find him?" Dr. Stiles asked Nigel.

"If he's alive, I'll find him," said Nigel. "And I'll get him back."

"Good," said Garrett. "It's time that Max came home."

=========================================================== 

"Are you ready?" Dr. Stiles had asked Jordan that this morning. It was now after five. She wasn't sure she was ready then and she still wasn't sure she was ready now. She had talked with Peter and Lily today. They had told her so much. There was so much information. She wasn't sure how she was going to handle Nigel, Garrett, and Woody. She knew she had been even closer to them.

Dr. Stiles had been great, pausing Peter or Lily when he saw Jordan was becoming overwhelmed. With Peter, there hadn't been too much. He had just relayed to her how grateful he was that she had worked so hard to get the CDC to the morgue during the snow storm when he had contacted a strain of e coli.

But he had also told her that she had tried to get him to perform tests on evidence and turn the results over to her and not the DA. He had told her that in the past, she had literally run over anyone when she was pursuing the truth of a case. And she didn't seem to care. Jordan had felt her cheeks redden and she apologized to Peter. When she asked about what case it was in question, neither Peter nor Dr. Stiles would answer her.

And Peter had been quite sweet about the whole thing. He said he knew she was just after the truth, and that she had always stood up for the underdog. He said she cared more about speaking for the dead and their families than anyone he knew – she had more compassion in her little finger than he did in his whole body.

Lily took a little longer. She talked about how Jordan had encouraged her when she came back as grief counselor. How much she cared about people. But then Lily echoed Peter's words…her relentless pursuit of the truth. 'How could I be so cold?" she wondered. She wondered if she was still that way.

She reached out a hand to run it down her face and noticed the hand was shaking. Slowly, she walked back to her office. Dr. Stiles was finishing up with Lily and then she knew he would be in to talk with her. Not bothering to turn on the lights, she sank down on the couch in her office, and curled up in the corner. She needed to pull herself together before Stiles came back.

"Hey," said a voice from the doorway. It was Woody. Jordan looked up and gave him weak smile.

"How'd it go?" he asked.

"It went. You know, Wood, it seems I'm a real piece of work, you know that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Peter and Lily both told me that I cared about people, but I would do anything to anyone to get at the truth. Is that right?"

Woody picked up Jordan's hand and began to rub small circles on the back of it. "You pursue the truth with great passion, Jo."

She sighed. She wanted nothing more than just to meet with Dr. Stiles and go home, take a hot shower and go to bed. Right now she was in overload. And although her head wasn't hurting yet, she knew it probably would.

"Okay, Jordan, how are you feeling?" asked Dr. Stiles, coming into the room.

"Overwhelmed, tired, and not liking myself very much right now."

"Why?"

"It seems like I would do anything to anyone in order to get my way, or get at the truth."

"Now Jordan, that's only their perspective. When you get your memory back, you'll have the whole picture. Because then, you'll know why you did it. It won't seem like such a random act."

"And how exactly is all this supposed to help me get my memory back?"

Dr. Stiles wasn't about to tell her that. "Trust me Jordan, it will. How's your head? Any pain?"

"No…"

"Maybe it won't happen this time."

Jordan looked doubtful. "I think I'm going to go get my pocketbook out of the locker room and go home."

Woody stood up to follow her, but Dr. Stiles put a hand on his arm to stop him. "Any word on Max, yet?"

Woody shook his head no. "Nigel's been working on it nonstop for two days and nothing yet."

"He's got to come back."

"I know he will….it's just finding him."

"You're staying with Jordan tonight?"

"Yeah."

"Keep an eye on her. I don't know if the headaches will come or not. And I plan on letting you talk to her next to last – we'll do Bug tomorrow, then Garrett, then Nigel, and you. Max needs to be last, if he comes back."

"Why me next to last….she's known Garrett and Nigel longer?"

"But she's not in love with them."

"And you think she's in love with me "

Dr. Stiles smiled. "Oh I know she was before the accident. It's just making her remember."

"Are you sure this intervention thing is going to work?"

"There are no absolutes, but I am very hopeful."

"What is this going to do to her – she's so worn out already."

"That's just it, Woody. It's going to wear down the wall she's put up in her mind. That's what these headaches are all about. Every time her memory want to come back, one part of her brain, the part that is protecting her from all the past pain, kicks into gear. This literally causes the brain, the mind, to fight itself – one part wants everything back to normal – the comfortable place where it was at before the accident. The other part of her brain is saying 'You know, that is way to painful and we're tired of dealing with it. So let's just forget it—for good'."

"You know, I think if you'd just tell me about my past, we could cut to the chase and get this whole thing over with," said a somber Jordan from the doorway. The men did not hear her come up.

"Sorry Jordan, I can't .It's important that you remember on your own," said Dr. Stiles.

"And what if I can't?"

"Oh I think you can," said Stiles, "and furthermore, I think you will."

=====================================

Jordan and Woody went back to the apartment. Woody flicked on the TV and tried to distract his mind from what had happened by watching a few minutes of ESPN. Jordan went and took her shower, threw on a t-shirt, and got into bed, hoping sleep would come quickly. Her head did not hurt, which surprised her. But there was a deep restlessness in her soul.

Was she that difficult to get along with? Did she really run over people that badly? And the question that tormented her the most was what made her pursue the truth that passionately? She tossed and turned trying to figure it out. But nothing would come. The memories weren't there…but the headaches weren't either.

Yet despite all that she did, these people remained her friends. Why? And if they were her friends, why did she feel so alone right now?

She wanted to know why. She wanted to know the truth. She wanted to know it now.

And the person who probably knew, was sleeping in the room next to her.


	8. It's Coming Back

"Woody, wake up," Jordan said, shaking him gently, but firmly. "Please wake up, it's important."

"Whatsa matter?" Woody sleepily replied. Realizing it was Jordan, he sat up. "Your head…?"

"No, my head is fine. I need to talk to you."

"What is it, Jo?"

"I want to know. What is it that I'm afraid to remember? What is it that makes me want to know the truth so badly?"

"You know I can't tell you that. You've got to remember that part yourself."

Jordan sat down on the couch beside him. "But I want to know. I didn't before. I didn't care if I ever remembered or not. But now I want to. I want to know. You know what it is, don't you?"

Woody gently cupped Jordan's face with one of his hands, lifting it up to his. "Yeah, sweetie, I know. I know all too well."

"Then tell me, please. Please, Woody. I really want to know." Tears were welling up in her eyes.

'Lord, how can I resist those honey colored eyes filled with tears?' Woody wondered. He nearly lost his resolve when he saw one stream down her cheek. "Damn," he said. Almost roughly, he pulled her to him and held her close. "It's going to be okay. You'll remember."

Jordan was sobbing now. "What if I don't? What if I can't ? What if it's too late and I never regain my memory?"

Woody held her as her sobs wracked her body. This was the hardest thing he had ever done. Now he knew how Jordan felt when he was going through the Montgomery case. "You will Jo, you will, " he kept repeating, trying to calm her down.

"But I can't. No matter how hard I try, the memories won't come."

"Hey," he said, gently pushing her back, so he could look at her. Softly, he traced his thumbs under her eyes, wiping away the tears. "Today was the first day. Give Dr. Stiles time. Give yourself time." He held her until he felt her sobs subside and her breathing return to just a shaky state. "Come here. Let's get you cleaned up and back in bed."

Woody took her by the hand and pulled her up from the couch. He led her to the bathroom, where he carefully washed her face with a warm, damp wash cloth. After drying it, he asked, "Feel better?"

Jordan looked up at him, into those blue eyes that seemed to hold her soul and future captive. "Yeah, but Wood…."

Woody signed inwardly. He hoped she wasn't going to ask him any more questions about her past. "What, Jo?"

"I….I…..really don't want to be alone tonight. Could you stay with me?"

"That, I can do."

Jordan went and got in the bed and Woody climbed in on the other side. He had never been in her bed before, despite all the ribbing that the other detectives and the morgue staff gave him. He and Jordan were close, but not that close. She curled up on her side, and he curled up against her, spooning her small body. A few minutes later, she flipped over on her back, looking him in the eye. She reached up and stroked her hand down his face. "Woody, what if I can't remember us? What we did….where we were at in the relationship?"

Woody put his hand over hers to stop her stroking. "You'll remember, Jo."

"But what if I don't? What if I don't remember this?" And with that said, she reached up and tentatively kissed him.

'Oh sweet Jesus,' Woody thought. 'What am I going to do?' His body was already responding, his lips slowly deepening the kiss. He tried to tell his unruly parts to calms down. It wasn't working. Abruptly, he broke the kiss off.

"We can't Jo."

"Why … "

"We just can't."

"But haven't we before … "The look in his eyes answered her questions. They may have kissed, they may have even been close. But they hadn't made love – at least not yet.

"Oh, Woody, I'm sorry….I just assumed….."

Woody took the hand that had been stroking his face and kissed it. "That's okay. We just hadn't progressed that far in our relationship. You didn't know."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why wasn't our relationship that far yet? We've known each other several years. Why? How long had we dated? Is there something wrong with me?"

Woody closed his eyes for a brief moment. He didn't feel comfortable answering these questions without Dr. Stiles here. She deserved an answer, but he didn't want to hurt her. Taking a deep breath, he began. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. Not one thing. In fact, I've always thought you were the hottest woman on God's earth."

Jordan could feel herself blush. Woody felt the heat from her cheeks against his skin.

"It's just like I've told you before. You're afraid of getting hurt or hurting someone else. So you made us keep a wall up between us – remaining a little more than friends, but not quite lovers, either."

"And you've stayed with me?"

"Though thick," he said, kissing her hand again, "and thin."

"How frustrating…"

Woody chuckled. "Why would you say it was frustrating? You've always seemed pretty comfortable with it."

Jordan shook her head. "It's like we were just staying in one place all the time, though, right?"

Woody nodded. "I figured one day you'd realize that you could trust me and we'd move on from there."

"You must be a very patient person."

Woody caught his breath. He knew what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell her that no, it wasn't patience that kept him by her side no matter what. It was love. He had loved her almost from the first moment he met her. And because of that he was willing to wait for however long it took her to trust him. But that would be too much for Jordan. She didn't need all of that tonight, no matter how much she wanted the truth about the past. She needed time to adjust gradually.

"Patience has very little to do with it, Jordan. Some things are just worth waiting for. I am waiting for you to come to me and tell me you're ready."

"What if I told you I think I'm ready now?"

Woody smiled sadly. He gathered her to him and held her tightly. He didn't want it this way, and when and if she regained her memory,he knew she wouldn't want it this way, either. Hell, she may not even have wanted it at all.

"No, Jo."

"No? Why…I thought you were waiting on me to tell you…."

Woody pulled back from her and tilted her chin up so she was looking him in the eyes. "No, not like this. It's not that I don't want you – I think that's pretty obvious already. It's just that I want you to really understand what you're doing, what you're committing to. And your past, our past, factors a lot into this. So, we can't, not until your memory comes back."

"But what if it never does? What then?" Jordan's voice had lowered to a soft whisper. The words were catching in her throat again.

Woody hugged her tighter, to reassure her. "I'm sure it will, Jo."

"But what if it doesn't? Will you leave me?" She buried her head in his neck.

Woody felt her tears. 'Damn,' he thought. 'Stiles is right. This is as hard on us as it is on her.' "Jordan, look at me." She slowly raised her head and looked him in the eyes. "Jordan, I will never leave you. I promised you I won't. I'll always be here for you."

"But what if I can't remember … "

"Shhh……" Woody snuggled her back down against him. "Don't worry about that right now. You remember what you said to me at the Pogue the other night? About feeling safe with me?"

He could feel Jordan nod.

"Then just go with that. Feel safe and secure with me right now. I'm not going to let anything or anyone hurt you. You're at the safest place on earth right now. So relax and go to sleep."

"Okay."

Woody rubbed her back until he felt the tension leave her shoulders and her body relax. Her breath had stopped catching on the sobs and returned to normal. Soon she was breathing deeply and was sound asleep. Woody looked into her face and brushed her hair off her forehead with his fingers. Jordan may not have a headache tonight, but he was getting a hell of one. Closing his eyes and settling her against him, he fell asleep.

==============================================

Two days later, Jordan was in her office going through some old files, when Dr. Stiles entered the room. "Are you ready?" he asked her. They were supposed to talk with Nigel today.

Jordan sighed and looked him. The day before yesterday, she had talked with Bug. So far, that had been the easiest. Bug had told her she was a driven person, pursuing the truth of a case, but no more driven than he was. He also told her that she had pulled his rear out of trouble a couple of times and for that, he was grateful. He said that he had enjoyed working with her and had learned a lot from her.

So Jordan surmised that Bug was probably the one person in her life she had not run roughshod over. Either he wouldn't let her, or she never tried for whatever reason. For that fact, she was thankful. Maybe she wasn't all bad. In some ways, Bug seemed as vulnerable as she did.

Garrett came next. That had been the hardest so far. It took Garrett a good two hours to just get through what brought her to the morgue in the first place. She was going to be a cardiologist. She had been a hard-working resident who turned in one of the leading cardiologists in the nation for putting a shunt in a weak artery. Kicked out of the residency program, she had tried, either knowingly or unknowingly, to commit suicide. Garrett offered her a job at the morgue. "I thought you'd liven the place up a bit," he said. "I was right."

"You do pursue the truth of a case," he had told her. "You care more, give more, and hell, enjoy this work more than anyone I know. I can understand why you do what you do the way you do," he had chuckled then. "If I didn't, the DA would have had your ass out of here a long time ago.

"You have one bad habit, as far as I'm concerned, Jordan."

"What's that?" she had asked.

"When you're scared, or you feel like you can't handle something, you run – and I mean run away."

"I do?"

"Yeah, you've run to LA, Denver, Atlanta, Chicago…"

Jordan tried to remember….nothing came. 'I'm sorry, I don't remember."

"Since you came back from LA the last time, you've stayed put. You've tried to deal with … with … the trouble that life has brought you in a way that I find admirable, even if sometimes it gets you in trouble.

"I understand you because you've talked with me more than almost any other person. You once said that I gave you a chance when no one else would. You called me your 'bestest girlfriend'. We're close, Jordan, and I don't want to lose that relationship or you for anything."

He had stood then and walked over to where she was sitting. Kneeling down in front of her, he had put both his hands on her upper arms. Close to tears himself, he had said "I love you like a little sister, Jordan. And I want you back – the old Jordan. I want you to regain your memory and come back to me, the way you used to be." He had hugged her then.

Jordan wasn't quite sure what to do. It was obvious that the place Garrett had held in her life was a big one and that they both cared for each other a great deal. She had a feeling he was the one who called her on the carpet when she screwed up, but would turn a blind eye when she was trying to bring closure for the family of a case she was working on. She knew, down inside, that they were cut from the same cloth – she and Garrett were more alike than different.

After that, she had gone home for the day. She was simply too drained to work. When Woody came home, she was already in bed, asleep. It wasn't until early, very early, the next morning, the day caught up with her. She awoke to her head pounding. She could almost hear the throbbing in her ears. Quietly, she had gotten out of bed and gone to the kitchen to take her medicine, trying not to wake up Woody. She knew he meant well, but she didn't want to talk with him right now. Truth be known, she needed time alone. If she had been this close to Garrett, how much harder was it going to be with Nigel? And she didn't even want to think about Woody.

So she had gone back to her room to wait out sunrise. Once it became reasonably light outside, she had dressed and left, telling Woody she needed to get in early to the office that morning. Instead she had gone to the park across the street from Dr. Stiles office, not too far from the morgue. She had sat there for hours, thinking.

The truth was, images were coming back to her. But for the life of her, she couldn't figure out if they were real or her imagination. Memories, or at least what she thought were her memories, were coming back, tying together like a strand of yarn in a long skein. She thought she remembered the snow storm when Garrett and Peter were so sick. She remembered being at the Pogue with Lily, scoping out men. She remembered dancing with Woody there. She remembered Nigel and a motorcycle. But were these images real? She had no way of telling.

"Jordan?" Dr. Stiles asked. "Are you okay? You seem a million miles away. If you're too tired to do this, we can do it tomorrow."

"Ummm, no. I'm ready. I was just reading through some old files."

"Trying to remember?"

"Yeah…."

"Any luck?"

"I remember my cases….it's just other things that I can't."

"It will come. Are you ready?"

Jordan and Dr. Stiles went into Nigel's office. The tall Englishman looked paler than usual. Nigel wasn't looking forward to this anymore than Jordan was.

"Hello, love," he had greeted her.

It had gone downhill from there.

Nigel told her that working with her was a real blast, a trip, even. But he also had reiterated what Peter and Lily had said. She would run roughshod over anyone to get what she wanted in the pursuit of truth. And that included him, and he was her best friend. She would use him for computer searches, finding evidence, withholding evidence, whatever she needed him for.

Almost in tears, she had asked, "Then why did you remain my friend, why did you keep doing all that for me?"

"Because, love, I understand where you're coming from. I know where your heart is and it's in the right place. And I know, that once you've found the truth that you're searching for in your own life, you'll settle down.

You've been there for me, too, Jordan. It's like that here…we're a family."

If the morgue was a family, Jordan felt like she was the dysfunctional child.

In the end, Nigel had hugged her and told her that he loved her, and like Garrett, he wanted her back – the old Jordan.

"Don't let any of this deter you," he had said. "The old Jordan was a hell of a woman. A good woman. One that I admire and love, very much."

============================================

Making her way back to her office, Jordan laid down on the couch. She was utterly and completely drained. She couldn't talk with Woody tomorrow…she just couldn't. If she had done this to other people, what had she done to Woody? She didn't think she wanted to know.

She was tired. Tired of talking. She just wanted her past back. She knew that unless it came back to her, she was doomed to stay in this void….not really being herself, and not knowing what true self was. Maybe this was her last relentless pursuit of truth. Finding out who she really was, and living with that fact and her past.

No one, not a soul, had mentioned what made her be so passionate about finding out the truth. Nigel, Garrett, and Woody had alluded to it, but never directly mentioned it. That was the part she needed to remember on her own. That was the real missing piece of the puzzle of her life. And when she remembered that, she had a feeling that the rest of these images, memories, would make a lot more sense. Her head began to throb again.

She heard voices in the hall. She knew they were Dr. Stiles, Garrett, Woody, and Nigel. Nigel was excited. With the door to her office closed, she couldn't hear exactly what they were saying, but from the tone of Nigel's voice, he was happy about something. She heard him tell Garrett he had found something…or was it someone? She wasn't sure. Her head was hurting too badly for her to know. It was hurting worse than it ever had before, even the night at her apartment when she fainted. She felt like she was going to pass out again. She got up from the couch, she had to let someone know.

How she got to her door and got it opened, she never knew. She was gripping the door when Woody caught sight of her.

"Jordan!"

When she came to, she was back in her office on her couch. Garrett, Nigel, Woody, and Dr. Stiles were gathered around her. "How are you, sweetie?" Woody asked. He was holding her hand tightly.

Truth was, Jordan didn't really know. Before she passed out, she saw something. It was red.

Turning to Dr. Stiles, she said, "I think my memory is trying to come back…."


	9. Woody

"Why do you think that?" Dr. Stiles asked her.

"I see things, but I'm not sure if they're real or not."

"What have you seen?"

Jordan told them about snowstorm, dancing with Woody, being back at the Pogue with Lily, and Nigel's motorcycle. Everyone confirmed that those weren't figments of her imagination, but were very real memories.

Encouraged, she sat up. "But right before I fainted, I had another one."

"What was in this one?" asked Woody, gently urging her on.

"I can't really explain. There was a figure on the floor, and there was a lot of red in the room. It looked like blood – blood everywhere."

The men looked at each other uneasily. Jordan caught the vibe.

"It's a real memory, isn't it?" she asked.

Dr. Stiles nodded. "Do you remember anything else?"

"No….what was it? An old case?"

Clearing his throat, Garrett replied, "Yes. It's an old case. A case you've been working on for a long time…it's never been solved. It stays on your mind a lot."

Jordan wrinkled her brow. "That's funny. I remember all my other old cases, even the cold ones. Why can't I remember this one?"

"Probably because you've been close to solving it quite a few times, love, but every time you're about to close it, it takes another turn. You've worked on this one for years," Nigel said.

Jordan thought about this for a minute. Looking at the foursome, she said, "I don't believe it. It has something to do with my past. I'm on the verge of remembering everything, aren't I?"

Dr. Stiles nodded. "Remember Jo, you can just walk away…"

"Hell, no. I haven't come this far for nothing."

"Go home, Jo. Eat some dinner, relax, go to bed. We'll take this up in the morning," Dr. Stiles said.

Jordan got up and went to get her things from the locker room. The men didn't follow her out. She knew she was their topic of conversation.

"You're sure he's coming?" Garrett asked Nigel.

"Yes. I talked with Max myself. He's going to be in tomorrow evening our time."

"Did you tell him everything?"

"Yeah."

"What was his reaction?" asked Woody.

"He's worried about her. But he can't help but feel that it may be better for her if she doesn't remember."

"Is her memory really coming back, Stiles?" asked Garrett.

"Seems to be. What she's seeing is real. It happened. And her headaches are proof. The worse they get, the harder the part of the brain that is protecting her is working to keep her from remembering. But it's failing. I have a feeling that she's going to have one huge, awful headache, and then her memory is going to come flooding back. The gate will be down and nothing will hold it back. And it's important she not be alone when that happens.

====================================================

The next day Jordan got up and dressed, ready to return to work. Woody stopped her. "I've called Dr. Stiles. I want to do this here…not at my office or yours. I think we both would be more comfortable."

"Okay, Woody, whatever you say…" Jordan began to get anxious. Nervously, she paced the living room while Woody showered and got ready. Since that night she had turned to him in her bed, they had avoided physical contact. Woody had been there for her, at each intervention, but at night, he was careful to make sure she was in her bed and he was on the couch. It was if they both knew that even the slightest touch may start a series of sexual fireworks that neither could put the brakes on this time.

Dr. Stiles arrived as Woody was coming back into the living room. "Good morning," he said, greeting Woody and Jordan. Turning to Jordan, he asked the same question he had everyday that week. "Are you ready?"

Jordan swallowed hard. A part of her was eager to continue…needing to finish this thing so she could remember her past and get on with her future. And another part of her was scared that once Woody confronted her, she wouldn't like herself enough to even try to continue their relationship. He had been nothing but good to her since her accident. Patient. Caring. Concerned. Loving. What had she been to him in the past? How had she treated him?

"What's the matter, Jordan? You look scared to death," said Dr. Stiles.

Woody glanced at her face. She was scared. She looked more frightened than when she talked to Garrett or Nigel. She was afraid and Woody's heart broke for her, but he knew they had to get through this. He had to get his old Jordan back. His answerless riddle – his never ending puzzle. He went over to her and took her by the hand, gently pulling her to the couch beside him. Dr. Stiles settled himself in the chair across from them. Holding both her hands in his, he began.

"Jordan, we've known each other for a few years. When I first came to the Boston PD, all the other detectives warned me about you after I began to ask questions about the 'hot ME downtown.' They warned me that you would chew me up and spit me out – that my best bet was to stay away from you.

"But when I met you, I saw something different. I saw a complicated woman, for sure. I saw a woman who would move heaven and earth to find answers about a dead loved one for their families. I saw a woman that would work endless hours pursuing the truth. I saw a woman who cared more for her friends and family than herself.

"And I saw a woman that was driven, too driven sometimes for her own good. A person who would, in the name of truth, jeopardize friendships and sometimes even breaking hearts, in order to find out answers.

"I followed you around, as far away as California once, in your drive for answers. I did it to try to protect you from anyone that would want to hurt you. I've even shot a man for you.

"I know all of that's a lot. You asked me the other night how come our relationship hadn't progressed any further than it did. I told you that you wanted to put up a wall after we kissed that time in the desert. And if you had changed your mind about pushing me away, you hadn't told me yet. And that's true. Part of that is your doing. But part of it is mine, too. For the longest time after we met, I tried to hate you. You made me angry. You wouldn't settle for convenient answers. You wanted the truth. And sometimes the truth didn't come in neat, little packages. It can be complicated, messy, and be hard to find.

"But you know what, Jo? I couldn't hate you if I wanted to. For in all our adventures and cases together, I've gotten to know you pretty well. And if you're driven, relentless even, in finding out the truth, it's because the truth's important to you."

"Why? Why is always knowing the truth so important to me?" Jordan asked.

Woody paused. This next part was going to be the hardest. He glanced over at Dr. Stiles. The doctor nodded to Woody, encouraging him to continue.

"It's because you have to have answers. The right answers. Not just convenient, neat, answers. And the reason you need answers so badly is that a big part of your life has been nothing but a puzzle since you were ten years old."

Jordan looked at him – the question was in her eyes, but she couldn't voice it and Woody wasn't sure he wanted to tell her.

"Go on, Woody," Dr. Stiles said softly.

Suddenly, Jordan's head began to pound. "No," she said. She could feel the tears, the nausea, and the headache coming. "No – this is too hard…please, stop."

"No, Jordan," Woody said. "We have to get through this."

"No…, I'm going to be sick." And with that Jordan fled to the bathroom, slammed and locked the door, and retched for what seemed like hours. Finally, when there was nothing left, she stood and washed her face in cold water. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

Who was she? Who the hell was she? This person that stepped all over people in order to get answers. Answers to what? What was so important that she had to hurt her friends in order to find out? And family. Woody mentioned family. She had family? Where? How come no one had told her before? How come her mother, father, brothers or sisters hadn't come to help her? Had she hurt them so much that she had pushed them out of her life? Dully, she looked at her face. What did she matter? Why did the truth matter? What happened to her when she was ten?

"Jordan, are you okay?" It was Woody. Always concerned. Why did he care for her? He could do better. She had to make him do better. He didn't need her. She had to let him go.

Then, suddenly, it was as if something took over her body. It was like her brain shifted to automatic pilot. The headache was still there, but the pain was muffled by something more powerful in her psyche. She decided to go with the feeling. She opened the door to the bathroom and managed a smile.

"I'm better now, Woody. Really. It just gets a little overwhelming sometimes."

Woody looked at her doubtfully and scratched the back of his head. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'll be better soon. Is Dr. Stiles still in the living room?"

"Yes.."

"I'm sorry Dr. Stiles. My head just started hurting again, and sometimes I get sick to my stomach when that happens."

"Do you feel like you're going to pass out?

"No. I'm fine, but I don't think I want to try to continue today, at least right now. Is that okay?"

"A little overwhelmed?"

"Let's try a lot overwhelmed. Can I sort of think this part over and then you, Woody, and I get together again tomorrow?

Dr. Stiles nodded.

"Sure," Woody said.

"Well, if we're going to finish this tomorrow, I'm going to my office," said Dr. Stiles. "Jordan, you call me if you need me and I'll be right over."

"Okay. But right now, I think I need to get to work."

"Are you sure you feel like working right now?" asked Woody. She looked pale and drawn.

Jordan managed to give him another smile. "You know me. I am happiest when I'm busy and I think better when I'm busy, too."

Woody nodded. At least she was beginning to sound more like the old Jordan.

===================================================

Jordan swung her SUV into the morgue parking lot. She knew Woody was close behind her, making sure she was going to work. So she was going through the motions. Her body, her brain, was still on automatic pilot. She made her way upstairs, purposely greeting everyone.

"Good morning, to you, too," said Nigel. "Did you have your little talk with Woody this morning?"

"Yeah."

"How'd it go, love?" Nigel was a bit concerned.

"It went okay. But we're going to have to finish it later. I got a little overwhelmed."

Nigel nodded sympathetically. Woody and Jordan had a lot of ground to cover and Woody had the most to lose if Jordan didn't get her memory back. It was good that this intervention was going slower than the others.

"Good. I mean good that you've decided to take it slowly. Not good that you got overwhelmed."

"It'll be okay. I'll be okay. I'm going to go through the reports on that guy we autopsied yesterday. I'd like to give them one more look before we turn his body over to the funeral home. I'll be in my office if you need me." Jordan turned and walked into her office, closing the door. But she didn't look at her reports. She knew they were fine. She simply needed time and quiet to think. Alone.

Nothing made sense. At least not sense in the collective word. All she had was a bunch of small pieces of the puzzle of her life. Little pictures. Nothing had connected them. Not yet. But she had a plan. She was still on that automatic pilot. Something was driving her, controlling her, but she couldn't put a name on it. Slowly, she opened the door to her office and looked out. Everyone was busy. Taking this as her chance, she quietly walked down the hall to the cargo elevator. Getting in it, she pushed the button to the basement. When the doors opened again, she looked around. No one. Not a soul. She quietly let herself out the back door and climbed in her car.


	10. Almost All the Way Back

Have you seen Jordan?" Woody asked Nigel.

"Sure, mate. She's in her office. She's been there since this morning when she got to work. She's going over the reports on the victim we autopsied yesterday."

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure. I haven't seen her leave and I've been in my office all morning."

"Well, she's not answering her phone."

"She could have had Emmy hold her calls…"

"Not her cell phone calls…unless Jordon routed her cell phone through the switchboard."

"That's a possibility. She was looking quite worn when she came in…said she was a bit overwhelmed with your talk this morning."

Woody nodded. That was why he was here. He wanted to take her to lunch. To make sure she got some food in her and that she was okay. He knocked on her office door. No answer.

Nigel gave him a worried glance. "Maybe she's lying down?"

Deliberately Woody knocked again. Harder this time. Nothing. In pure panic mode, he opened the door. The room was empty.

"Where'd she go, Nige?"

"No clue, Hey Garret – have you seen Jordan?"

"No…not since this morning."

"Page her."

"What?"

"Page her. We can't find her."

"Oh, shit."

===========================================

Jordan was still on auto pilot. She had got in her SUV completely numb, but with one goal in mind. Garrett had said she was good at running. Let's see if she remembered how good she was. Arriving back at her apartment, she hurriedly threw some clothes in a duffle bag and grabbed her meds off the counter. Make up. Hair dryer. Then her eyes caught Woody's cologne bottle on the back of the sink. Hesitantly, she picked it up and held it to her nose. That was his scent. Sort of a musky male woodsy scent. 'What the hell?' she thought. 'It may be all I have to remember him by.' The cologne bottle got thrown in the bag, too.

Grabbing the bag she hurried downstairs and into her SUV. So far so good. But her head was still pounding, despite the medication. If she could make it to the airport and she'd be okay. Someone else could do the driving from there. She'd take the first flight to wherever. She had her ATM card. She could get money while she waited on the plane.

Only her mind wasn't letting her body drive to the airport. Whatever this automatic pilot thing was, it wasn't allowing her to go there. Her body wasn't sure where her mind was taking her, but it seemed to know the way. Jordan simply reacted. Finally she found herself in a quiet part of town she didn't remember. It wasn't familiar at all. It was a cemetery.

Still questioning herself, she parked her car and got out. Now her feet were automatically taking her down a sidewalk. It was quiet here, real peaceful. Maybe she just needed to think. But she couldn't stop. Whatever it was possessing her, it kept driving her forward. Two sidewalks over, once to the right, now down a path. Then her feet stopped. She looked in front of her and saw it. A gravestone with the name Emily Cavanaugh.

She looked at it for what seemed like the longest time, her mind turning pictures and thoughts over like a kaleidoscope – the visions coming together and then fracturing apart again. Her head was pounding now. It hurt worse than ever. She thought she was going to pass out again. Then the memory kicked in, like a shaft of light in a dark room. Emily Cavanaugh was her mother. And her mother was dead. With a cry like a lost child, she turned to run away, and collided with Woody.

================================================

He held her for the longest time, sitting on a bench, near her mother. He just let her cry herself out. He didn't tell her she'd be okay. He didn't tell her to hush. He just let her sob until she couldn't anymore. He figured that's what she really needed to do. Get it all out.

When she had finally stopped, he pulled her closer. "You better now?' he asked.

She shook her head no. He began to stroke her back. Gradually, he felt her muscles relax and her breathing return to normal. "How come you know just what to do?" she asked, wondering at his ability to calm her down.

"Lots of experience."

She pulled away from him a little and looked at his face. "This is it." It was a statement, and not a question.

"Yes."

"So this is the reason I go after the truth so hard….I need it in my own life. I don't know why she died."

Woody studied her closely. She was almost back. Almost. But there were still some pieces of her puzzle missing.

"Yeah, Jo. That's it."

"And everyone else knows, too, don't they? That's why they're still my friends….they understand."

"Uh-huh"

She was quiet for a little while, still leaning against him, trying to gather her strength from him. But she couldn't. At least not yet. She just wanted him to hold her as the pieces of her life began to slide back into place in her memory. "Do you have to go back to work?" she finally asked.

"No. The whole place went ape-shit when we discovered you were missing."

Jordan managed to give him a weak grin. "Sorry. I don't know what possessed me. I had to get away. It was like I was on auto pilot or something. My mind was writing checks and my body was cashing them as quick as it could. I didn't even know I was coming here until I did."

"It's okay. Ready to go home?"

She nodded.

"Me, too. As soon as I call Garrett and let him know you're fine."

Jordan leaned back into his arms again as he called Garrett and relayed what had happened. The relief in Garrett's voice was obvious as he told Woody to make sure Jordan took the rest of the day off and any more time she may need.

"Can you drive?" he asked Jordan.

She nodded.

"You can follow me if you don't remember the way."

"I don't need to. I remember now."

=================================================

Woody watched her as she unpacked her duffle bag back at her apartment. "I can't believe you were seriously considering running again," he commented.

"This memory thing was driving me nuts," she said. "I just had to get away for a while. I was coming back."

Curiously, he picked up his bottle of cologne from her bag. "And why did you pack this?"

He was sitting in the middle of her bed, with his back against the headboard and his legs stretched out in front of him. Slowly she straightened up from the bag and walked over to him. She sat down beside him, facing him, so she could look into his eyes. "I wanted something to remember you by. I wasn't sure you'd still be here when I got back."

His eyebrows hit his hairline. "What made you think that?"

"Well, this was before most of my memory came back – I didn't know how you could stay with me after …..well, after everything. I thought you deserved something, someone better." She looked down at her hands. "And in some ways you do. After everything I've been through, there's not a lot of 'me' left."

He reached for her and pulled her closer. "I'll take what's left any day…there's more to you than meets the eye, you know."

She hugged him back, closing her eyes and simply relishing his nearness. His scent. Just him, pure and simple. She felt his hands roaming her back. "Hmmm. You're going to put me to sleep."

He chuckled. "I don't want you asleep. I just want you relaxed."

Jordan felt a frizzle of excitement run up her spine. "Just relaxed? And why do you want me relaxed? Will you tell me or will I have to try to remember?"

"You can't remember this, sweetie…."

"Oh, really. Can I imagine?"

"You don't need to imagine. It's going to be better than anything you could create in that pretty, little head of yours." And he began to kiss her, gently deepening each one as he felt her respond. Finally he rolled her over on her back, so he could look in her eyes. "What about the wall, Jordan?" he asked.

"Wall….oh, that wall…." She looked at him from beneath her lashes. "I think it's down."

"You think?"

She smiled at him. "It's down, Woody."

"No professional hang ups … no fear of me hurting you or you hurting me?"

"I said no."

Woody grinned at her. She was becoming more like the old Jordan every minute. He continued. "No morning regrets? No tearful excuses?"

"Woody….would you please get on with it?"

"Begging now, huh?"

She looked at him and sighed. He was getting some of his own back and she knew it. And well, he deserved to.

Somewhat shyly, she replied. "I guess so…..I mean if what is going to happen is going to be better than what I am imagining, then you're going to be here a while…feel up to it?" she asked, reaching down and tracing his hardness lightly with her fingertips.

His reply was a groan. "Damn, woman."

Jordan chuckled and turned her attention to the buttons on his shirt, gently kissing his chest as she released each one. He soon returned the favor, and his reward was having her arch against him and moan. He pulled her shirt off and reached for the front clasp on her bra. "You're sure?" he whispered. "This could change everything."

"I'm sure…yes… please…"

The bra came off, followed by her jeans. Jordan felt like she was floating, as his lips and tongue explored her neck and collarbone. She reached for his belt and felt him pull away and shift slightly so she could undo it and his pants. Then she pushed his pants and boxers down as far as she could. He finished taking them off, and settled between her legs, his hardness pressing against the inside of her thigh. He continued to kiss her to keep her distracted long enough for his hand to trail up to her breast. She moaned again. That seemed to almost push him over the edge, as his other hand went for her briefs, only to find that her underwear tied at the sides. Observing this fact, he pulled away slightly and looked in her eyes, slowly undoing the tiny ribbons on one side before moving to the next and gently sliding them away. "That was a pleasant surprise," he whispered in her ear, softly teasing her.

She arched against him and felt him catch his breath. Without any other hesitation, he entered her. "Jordan, look at me," he said. She slowly raised her eyelids and looked into his blue eyes. "Stay with me, sweetie," he said. "Don't close your eyes." He moved in her again, and this time her breath hitched. He kept moving, slowly at first and building momentum until he felt her contract around him and she went over the edge.

"Woody…." She whispered softly, her breath sending shivers up his spine, as he followed her over that edge.

=============================================

"Jordan," Woody said later. She was snuggled up on his chest, not asleep, but somewhere in the blissful place between consciousness and sleep. "Jo…" he said again, when she didn't answer. "You awake?"

"I am now."

Woody nearly laughed out loud. She was almost all the way back…so close to being her old self. "I forgot to tell you something."

"Oh, who's memory is giving them trouble now?" she teased propping herself up on one elbow, looking him in the eyes. "What is it?"

"I love you."

Jordan caught her breath. "What?"

"I said, I love you. And usually that merits some kind of response, like 'Oh really,' 'You don't say', something along those lines."

"What about a simple I love you, too?"

Woody reached for her. "That will do nicely."


	11. All the Way Back and Then Some

"Is he here, yet?" asked Garrett.

"Yeah, I picked him up from the airport and took him home. He's going to meet us later tonight. I explained the set up and he's ready," said Woody. He and Garrett were walking down the hallway at the morgue.

"I hope this brings the rest of her memory back," said Garrett. "It's been awful watching her struggle with her past – trying to remember, going through the interventions."

Woody nodded. It was one of the most painful experiences he had ever encountered. But yesterday – yesterday had been exceptional on many levels. At least part of her memory had returned. And she and he had made some great new memories. He could feel himself grow warm when he remembered those. Mentally shaking himself so Garrett wouldn't notice his blush, he said "Well, at least she's part of the way back. This is better than nothing and it's a hell of a lot further than we were last week."

"Yeah, that's for sure. Jordan's going to owe Nigel big time. Max obviously didn't want to be found. It's never taken Nigel that long to find anyone."

"He's going to be there tonight, too, right? And Dr. Stiles?" Woody didn't want any of this to occur without the doctor. Because if Stiles was right, and he had been about this whole case, Max was the last piece of Jordan's puzzle. Once she saw him, the rest of her memory should slide into place.

"Yes. They're both going to be there."

"Hey guys," said Jordan, coming up behind them. "What's up today?" She knew they had been planning something. Something that they said should help her over the last hurdle in her mind. The last chunk of the wall.

Woody leaned over and gave her a brief kiss on the cheek. "Nothing much…just putting the finishing touches on a few things." He looked her over. She looked so much better. There was a peace on her face that hadn't been there in, well, a long time. Her eyes sparkled again and her cheeks had some color. She looked like the old Jordan and was acting more and more like herself. He had evidence of that all over his suit this morning when he walked into Nigel's office and caught them in a water balloon fight. He had to laugh and Garrett just rolled his eyes. Things were returning to normal. "You can be ready at eight?"

"Sure, as long as boss man here lets me off on time," she said, lightly squeezing Garrett's arm.

"Oh, he'll let you," replied Garrett, "because he's going, too."

"And Nigel and Dr. Stiles.." she continued. "Well, that's a psychiatrist in case I totally break down and a person to cover each of the exits, so I can't run. Sounds like everything is under control…."

Everything except possibly Jordan's reaction.

===============================================

Woody was nervous as he and Jordan drove to the Pogue. He had told her earlier where they were going. She had been curious as to why the Pogue. She knew the place had figured predominantly in her past. She knew she had spent a lot of time there.

"Come on Woody, give me a hint," she begged.

"No. No way. Just sit tight and wait until we get there."

"Please?" she asked, lightly trailing a finger up his thigh.

He made a rude sound and pushed her hand away. "No. And stop that. You're going to cause me to have you in another wreck if you're not careful."

She sighed. She had been trying to keep the mood light. Woody, Garrett, and Nigel had looked tense all day. Dr. Stiles called her and said that she didn't have to do this if she didn't want to. She had told him that she had come too far to chicken out now. "Take your medicine before you come," he had replied.

They arrived and to Jordan's surprise, the parking lot was empty except for a few vehicles. She gave Woody a questioning glance.

"We shut it down for the evening. Tuesdays are kind of light anyway. It's better if there's not a crowd."

Jordan noted that Garrett's car and Nigel's motorcycle was already there. And another vehicle she didn't recognize. 'Probably Dr. Stiles' car', she thought. They walked down the steps and entered the Pogue. It was lit up and the jukebox was going. Garrett, Nigel, and Dr. Stiles were sitting at the bar.

"Hey Jordan," they all greeted her. Woody took her coat and hung it up with his. Motioning to a seat, he told her to sit down.

"I'd really rather stand," she sad. She was getting anxious now. They all looked too concerned. "I don't do too well sitting down."

Clearing his throat, Woody began. "Jordan, when we brought you here the first time, you said you didn't remember this place. And that bothered you, because you normally could remember places, just not people. We think that the reason you don't remember this place is because you associate this place closely with a person."

"Okay…" Jordan said, thinking. What person…what person did she think about when she thought about this bar? Her mind wasn't connecting the dots. "Sorry guys, you're going to have to give me a little more than that. Nothing is coming."

This time, Garrett continued. "Would it surprise you to learn that you own this bar?"

Jordan looked completely stunned. "I .. own….this….bar? I own this bar? Is that why I can't remember the Pogue? Because I associate the bar with me? That doesn't make a lot of sense."

Nigel got up and handed her a piece of paper. "Look at this, love. It's the deed to the bar. It has your name on it. You own it. But look who gave it to you."

Jordan stared at the other signature on the deed. "Max Cavanaugh?" Her head began to hurt again. "Max Cavanaugh…"

"That's right Jordan, it was me." A tall, blonde man stepped from the back of the room. "Don't you recognize me?"

Jordan stared at the man for a long moment. Her head was pounding now and her ears were roaring. "You're Max Cavanaugh?" she managed to get out.

The man was holding her by her arms now. "Yes…baby, don't you know who I am?"

Jordan could feel her mind shift and the pictures and memories whirl around her. The woman on the floor, the blood, a policeman's uniform, a house, a man walking her to school, saddle oxfords…."Max…" she began, but her voice trailed off as she looked into the man's blue eyes. She had seen those eyes before…where? Her mind wasn't putting it together quickly enough. And her head – it had never hurt this badly before.

"Jordan?" It was Dr. Stiles. "Hang in there." She was turning paler by the minute. Her hands went to her head. Woody caught her before she slumped to the floor.

==================================================

Jordan woke on a hard couch in an unfamiliar room. It was small and dark…some sort of office. She was surrounded by all the men, but she had eyes for only one of them. Searching him out, she looked into his eyes…. "Dad." That was all she had to say as he caught her in a hug.

They stayed like that for minutes and the room was silent except for the sound of Jordan's and Max's crying and the uncomfortable noises men make when they want to cry, but not in front of people. Finally pulling away, she looked at Max and said, "Where the hell have you been? Do you know how much I've worried? You could have at least called."

Max grinned. "Just had to get away. You know how it is. Everyone has to run once in a while."

"But you're back…right? Back to stay?"

"Yeah, baby, I'm back," he said, smoothing his daughter's hair out of her face. "How's your head, are you all right?"

Jordan nodded. "No pain."

Dr Stiles cleared his throat. "Your memory Jordan…how's that?"

"I think it's all back. I still have questions, but I think they're the ones that probably don't have answers yet."

"Like what?" asked Woody.

"Where's James and do we know who killed my mother?"

The room was silent. Woody shook his head. "No, Jo. I'm sorry. We don't know where James is. We never recovered a body from the Charles and….I'm afraid your mother's murder is still not solved."

"Well at least I know now."

"Know what sweetie?" Woody had moved over beside her and Max.

"I know my memory is back and I know why I pursue the truth so hard. I need it to complete my own life."

==================================================

"No, I'm not going to tell you where we're going," Woody said, teasing Jordan as he put her in the car.

"Come on, Wood, please?" she begged.

"No. No way. It's a surprise."

"Just a hint?"

"No."

"Well, can I play Twenty Questions and try to find out?"

"You can play Twenty Thousand Questions and I won't tell you," he said as he buckled her in. "Just relax and enjoy the moment."

Jordan sat back in the seat. Whatever it was, Woody was being awfully secretive. He had showed up at her office this morning and told her that if she had plans that night to cancel them. He had one more place he to take her to complete her intervention.

That threw her off. As far as she knew, her memory was fully back. Her father, Garrett, and Dr. Stiles had confirmed it. But he was relentless this morning. Cancel your plans. Be ready at seven. Wear a nice dress.

So she had left work early and bought a new outfit. A form-fitting black dress, snug in all the right places with a slit up the side. She remembered Woody liked slits. And shoes. She bought new high heels. They were killing her feet, but she looked like a million dollars. She had piled her curls up on top of head and even put on her mother's pearls.

Woody had moved back to his apartment, as she was physically fine now. But most nights he either ended up in her bed or she in his. She still enjoyed that safe, secure feeling she had with him. She hoped she always would. So he didn't see her as she dressed. When she had answered the door, he was speechless. He had never seen her look lovelier. "Oh my," was all he could say, as he looked her over. He handed her a long-stemmed red rose before hustling her downstairs.

They pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant. He got out and opened her car door. "Do you remember any of this?" he asked.

Jordan was beginning to feel panicky. She didn't. Not a thing. Wordlessly she looked at him, the distress becoming obvious on her face. "I don't…."

"Shh…." He said, helping her out of the car. "Just relax."

It was small, upscale, river-front restaurant. The hostess led them directly to the back of the restaurant, to a table hidden behind a screen. The walls were all glass and they could see the boats and lights on the river.

"Do you remember any of this?" he asked again.

Jordan was really feeling frightened now. "No…and I'm out of meds….where…what?"

"It's okay Jo, just order dinner. It will come to you."

So they had dinner, but Jordan couldn't take her mind off of her surroundings. Another place she couldn't remember…that just didn't make sense. Finally, after finishing, Woody ordered a bottle of wine and had it brought out to the patio area behind the restaurant. Filling their glasses, he took her by the arm and they walked down by the river. "Do you remember now?" he asked pulling her down on a bench.

Jordan looked at him. The panic was clearly in her eyes. "No, I don't….I don't remember any of this."

"Good."

"Good?"

"Yeah, good. You've never been here before."

Jordan gave him a look that could kill. "Woody, that is not funny," she said, swiping his arm.

"Hey, I brought you here for a reason….but if you don't want to hear it…."

Jordan rolled her eyes. "I bought a new dress for this, so what is your reason? And this better be good."

Woody slid off the bench and went down on his knees. Taking her hand, he simply said, "Marry me."

Jordan swallowed hard. And managed to get out a "Yes" around the lump in her throat. She was in his arms before another heartbeat happened.

"I thought tonight we could make some new memories, Dr. Cavanaugh," he said, wiping the tears from her eyes. He was having trouble with his own eyes, too. "Your dad said he thought you had never been here."

Jordan chuckled. "I haven't, but you really had me scared for a while."

"I told you to relax."

"Yeah, but that didn't help."

He held her tight for a few minutes before he kissed her. "So when do you want to get married?" he asked.

"Gee, give a girl time to enjoy her engagement, huh, Woody?"

"Oh, hell. Engagement. I nearly forgot." Woody fumbled in his pocket for the small box. "Open it. It should be your size."

Jordan slowly opened the box. Inside was a square-cut diamond engagement ring, with diamonds circling the band. She caught her breath. She had never seen anything so beautiful.

"Do you like it?" Woody asked.

"Oh, I love it," she whispered as he slipped it on her finger.


	12. Fifteen times and Counting

"Are you ready?" asked Dr. Stiles. Only this time, he wasn't asking Jordan. He was asking Woody. "It's nearly time."

Nervously, Woody wiped his damp hands down his tux pants. "Don't do that, son," warned his dad. "You'll mess your suit up and your mother will never forgive you. It'll show up in the pictures."

Woody nodded. He walked out from the side vesture to the front of the church. His father and brother followed him. He vaguely heard the sounds of _The Wedding March_ playing on the organ. Turning and looking at the back of the church, he saw Lily coming up the aisle. She was Jordan's maid of honor. She looked lovely. She was followed by the flower girl. The daughter of one of Jordan's friends.

Then he saw Jordan come in on Max's arm. She was absolutely gorgeous. She had chosen a simple white dress with a princess neckline. Not too frilly. It was classically cut and accentuated her figure. A matching veil was in her hair. He was thankful she chose not to wear it over her face.

"Who gives this woman to this man?" the priest asked.

Without hesitation, Max answered, "Her mother and I."

After the ceremony and a few thousand pictures later, Woody and Jordan joined their friends at the reception. Nearly the entire police department was there as well as the whole morgue staff and Woody's family from Wisconsin. 'I've never seen so many people,' Jordan thought, as she hung on to Woody's arm.

"You okay?" Woody asked.

Jordan looked up at her husband and smiled. "Never better."

"Come on guys, one more kiss," said Nigel. "I'm not sure I got the last one on film." He was holding up his camera.

"Yeah, one more," said Garrett, laughing at the couple. So far, they had been asked to re-do the kiss fifteen times. He had a bet in the office pool they'd hit twenty.

"In a minute," said Woody. "We need to cut the cake and make the toast."

"A toast," said Max, raising his glass. "To the happy couple. May you always remember the past, for it's the foundation for the future. May you enjoy the present and may it always be filled with joy and happiness – and full of good memories."


End file.
